Not Me
by Blind-Hasegawa
Summary: AU.  The stealthy hunter treads quietly to capture his prey.  A joint effort of Hasegawa and Blind-Alchemist. Warning: MATURE theme- more precise rating would be "X." Pairings: UK China, Japan China, Russia China, UK Hong Kong, etc.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1.

A joined account (and smut!) from Blind-Alchemist sama and Hasegawa. And please note that this is mature theme, so please reconsider your age before reading this.

Enjoy!

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><p>The man by the window won't stop staring at him.<p>

Xiang Gang keeps his eyes trained to his cell phone screen as the man continues to pretend not to look at him, unmoving. Xiang Gang lurches forward slightly as the train roars on its tracks across the Tsing Ma Bridge; from this point, it won't take longer than twenty minutes or so for him to reach the academy.

Xiang Gang is used to stares from strangers, both male and female. Sighing, he puts his long, well-shaped legs onto the footrest under the seat in front of him and stretches. The heat from the car interior has made his choppy hair curl gently into his neck, clinging with sweat. The other passengers in the car ignore each other; some nap quietly with their heads against the windows. It's midday now and he is running very late for school.

He wouldn't be running late if it weren't for the night terrors. This would be the third time this week they'd occurred, and this morning he'd hovered in between states of consciousnesses longer than usual while completely ignoring his alarm.

The man by the window has taken out a copy of the newspaper and is using one hand to grasp the handrail while the other clutches the front page. Xiang Gang relaxes a bit as the one thought that has constantly nagged him throughout the commute captures his immediate attention.

He's seen this man before. Not terribly long ago either. He can't remember exactly from where, but it might have been through Yao-_gege_.

The train halts at the next station. The man makes a move as though to exit, but it's only to shift his weight so that another passenger can enter. He adjusts his dark-rimmed sunglasses and a length of his short, black fringed hair gets stuck in between the lenses. The train starts moving again. The man neatly folds the paper and sits down on a nearby seat that was recently vacated.

"Xiang Gang?"

The man has spoken directly to him. Xiang Gang looks up, slightly shaking. He never shakes.

The man with the sunglasses lowers them. Dark gray eyes peer intently at the boy's face.

"I'm sorry, what's your name again?" Xiang Gang asks courteously, swallowing his nerves.

"I'm Honda Kiku, your brother's old business partner." The man takes off his sunglasses and places them into his pocket. He smiles very politely at Xiang Gang, though the smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Where are you heading?" he asks. "School? It's quite late, isn't it?"

"…I slept in this morning." Xiang Gang keeps his eyes level with Honda Kiku's, memorizing every detail of the man's face. The dark gray eyes, frighteningly intelligent, seem to be studying his with equal intensity.

"What are you studying?"

"…mathematics," Xiang Gang lies. He hasn't decided on a major yet.

"Ah. I remember skipping my 8 a.m. classes at least once a month when I attended university. Of course when it was due to sleeping in, I'd had at least one _xiao gu niang_ in my bed."

Honda Kiku smiles wider. "And how is your brother doing?"

"Wh-What?"

"How is Wang Yao?" he repeats patiently.

"Um… he's doing very well…" Xiang Gang racks his brain. "Where did you say you worked with my brother at?"

"We had some trading business back in the day." Honda Kiku glances down. "It's almost time for lunch. There is a very nice noodle house that I know of at the next stop. Would you mind having a bite to eat and catching up?"

"That sounds delicious, but no thank you. I can't miss my next class. Nice running into you, Mr. Honda. I'll tell my brother you say hello."

Xiang Gang heads to the set of doors farther away from where the man was previously standing and, not looking back, steps out into the sunlight.

The sidewalks are deserted. The first class must already in session. Xiang Gang curses under his breath and prepares to cross the street in order to head into the main building.

SCREEEEECH!

A shiny black Buick pulls up to him.

Blinking, Xiang Gang turns rapidly and nearly bumps into a skinny man in a suit. "Excuse me."

"Not a problem." Xiang Gang frowns as he feels a slight prick on his wrist. Startled, he looks up into dark green eyes framed by very thick, bushy yellow eyebrows.

"I'm sorry," the stranger says swiftly. "Did I accidentally get you with my wristwatch?" His hand closes on Xiang Gang's wrist; the touch feels cool and light. "Here, let me…"

"No, it's okay…" Xiang Gang doesn't know why, but the sidewalk suddenly feels unsteady, rushing up to meet him. "I'm running late. I need to get to…"

He would have hit the sidewalk if the man hadn't caught him in his arms. "Are you alright?" The man looks around quickly.

"I…" The boy's lids feel heavier and heavier, and his tongue can't quite seem to form words properly. Something is wrong, very wrong…

"Let's get you to a hospital just in case." Xiang Gang is barely aware of being lifted up by the man and held against his chest; it smells like expensive cologne, overpowering.

"No, it's… I….no…"

The man peers down at the boy; he's completely unconscious. Glancing around one more time, he bundles the child into the Buick. The Buick makes a U-turn and pauses at the train station. A minute later, the black-haired man who'd previously approached Xiang Gang gets into the car.

"Kiku."

"Arthur," the black-haired man nods. The sunglasses are back on his nose. He looks down at the unconscious child. "Should we call his brother now, then?"

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><p>Thank you Kaya! Your cover is so awesome! OMG!<p>

review please?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2.

Enjoy!

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><p><span>24 Hours Later<span>

The minute Yao Wang sees the flashing letters "Unknown" appear on his cell screen, his guts clench and a cold sweat breaks out along his brow.

The man's voice on the other line is calm and unwavering as he coolly lays out what Yao is to know. The man has kidnapped his younger brother. Yao is not to alert the authorities, and in eighteen hours he is to meet the kidnapper, alone, at a certain address that Yao is told to memorize.

No mention of goods or valuables for which to ransom Xiang Gang. No routing number to wire money to.

The thought of immediately spilling everything to Ivan crosses his mind as soon as Yao hangs up, but he ultimately decides against it. Ivan really doesn't deserve to be dragged into this. Also, he might prove a hindrance.

The cell vibrates violently. It's Yong-Soo. Yao immediately directs the call to voicemail.

After putting on his shoes his cell rattles again. This time, he picks up. "I can't talk right now, Wan."

"Don't you dare hang up on—"

He shuts the cell as he walks to the station, and within three minutes is on the next train out to the Hong Kong International Airport.

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><p>Xiang Gang's panting is getting quicker. It had taken Arthur a few hip convulsions to get himself all the way in, the boy was that tight; but when he did, a few steamy kisses later, the child was like putty in his hands.<p>

The boy had a shocked, disbelieving look on his face the whole time; it wouldn't have been as exciting for Arthur if his captive had been more experienced. After tying his arms, Arthur had simply held him down while Xiang Gang thrashed and spit in his face like a wild baby animal.

"Y-you said you wouldn't touch me if Yao-_gege_ would come get me!"

An evil smirk was evident on Arthur's face as he pulled down the boy's shorts and wedged himself in between two smooth thighs.

"I lied. Sue me."

To amuse himself, instead of teasing the boy further, Arthur had thrust only partially into him as he was wrestling with the child. The boy was so _tight_—and the twisting and thrashing little body not only turned Arthur on, it seemed to be driving the boy himself crazy.

"Nnnngh! No! You can't! _Please_!"

The pace is broken as soon as Arthur plunges himself in all the way. He thrusts, pulls out slightly, and then reinserts all the way in again. After a little of this treatment, Xiang Gang's tears flow faster as his body starts responding involuntarily.

"Listen to you… you sound like a little squeaking rabbit." Arthur smiles at the little, objectionable coos coming from the boy's mouth, knowing that each plunge is bringing the boy closer. He switches positions, pulling the boy directly on top of him and feeling the small body clench as he climbs faster.

Xiang Gang closes his eyes. His body surges up and into Arthur. Then, with a small little-boy cry that almost sets Arthur off right then and there, Xiang Gang comes. With a groan, Arthur finishes a moment later inside him.

The door opens then and Arthur tenses, but relaxes a moment later.

"Hey, Kiku, you want a go?"

Kiku is glaring at his cell phone. "I wonder what's taking him so long." He looks at Xiang Gang. "What did you do?"

Arthur blinks. "What do you _think_?"

"…Get him cleaned up."

Kiku slams the door and walks onto the balcony, lighting a thin cigarette. The sun bleeds into the horizon, making the lenses of his sunglasses appear orange.

He'll get what he wants, soon enough. With Arthur at his side, they've been able to lure their "prey" out on a nonstop flight to London. And maybe without Arthur, the prey will enjoy a permanent stay with his new master.

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><p>Yao arrives precisely on time.<p>

His heart hasn't stopped pounding loudly. It is unbearable—the combined sensations of his heart beating harshly with the sudden change in the air pressure inside the cabin. Even so, his own discomfort is obviously the furthest thing on his mind. He is focused on only one objective: getting his baby brother back.

Safely.

He passes immigration without incident. Ignoring the swirling crowds, Yao, who'd travelled light—carrying nothing but the clothes on his back and his Shinatty-chan wallet- heads straight to the waiting line for taxis.

20 minutes left to get to the promised meeting… and there are ten people in the queue in front of him!

Finally, Yao impatiently enters a vacant taxi.

"Where do you want to go, beautiful?"

Yao doesn't even feel angry at the driver who is hitting on him. Usually he would be out of the taxi in a second. But this time, his precious time is limited.

"Arriva Hotel, 55 Swinton street, Kings Cross please. Hurry up, aru."

"Right o' madam."

China forgets to scowl.

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><p>Yao looks around. The lobby seems normal enough, although not especially luxurious as it is only a two-star hotel.<p>

He tries to spot anything familiar. Something Asian. Something that might remind him of the Japanese man he'd used to work with a long time ago. The man he was certain owned the cool, collected voice he'd heard on the phone.

After ten minutes of looking around and attracting unwanted attention from people around him, Yao grimaces and his worst fear bubbles onto the surface. What did the kidnapper want? Was he too late? Was he even in the right place, oh God, was it even true?

He had been trying and trying to call Hong Kong's cell, to no avail. And Ivan was still in the dark about the whole ordeal. Ivan was probably still nicely seated inside his office, blissfully unaware of where his fiancée was. Though maybe his siblings had told him? But whatever everyone else's status, Yao didn't have time to care.

_Oh Tian, please help him… where was his brother?_

"…Yao, Wang?" An unfamiliar voice greets him from behind. Yao turns to see a man, a bit taller than him; blonde, green-eyed, smiling.

"...yes, aru! Are you..? Where is-"

"Follow me quietly, won't you?"

Yao nods and follows the man. The man's mannerisms are very casual; in fact, he looks like he could have just been strolling into the hotel to borrow the toilet. His clothes are moderately decent, but Yao can smell wafts of expensive cologne.

Yao then makes an obscure but important observation: if the kidnapper is that well off that he could bring his kidnapped brother to London from Hong Kong in such a limited amount of time, then the reason for the kidnapping was probably not as simple and straightforward as for monetary reasons. They were aiming for something else.

But what?

His mind wanders helplessly as he follows the man out of the building.

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><p>Naughty stuff will start soon, LOL!<p>

Review please?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3.

Enjoy!

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><p>As soon as he enters the car (BMW, S series, black), Yao is blindfolded.<p>

He protests, but his hands are grabbed and handcuffed behind him. A sick wave of panic hits Yao. If the man has access to police-issue handcuffs, surely he has the access to guns too…?

His fear is proven true in the next second.

"Don't make a sound, or I'll shoot your brains out," the man whispers wickedly in his ear. Due to his blinded condition, his other senses have hiked up. The whisper in his ears is close enough to cause a stirring inside his chest. And he feels some kind of metal, cold and dangerous, round in shape, pressed against his waist.

"You don't seem to have any bugs on you." The man is speaking to himself, and Yao can hear the radar beeping around him. "Good boy, you've followed instructions properly. You may see your brother soon."

"Where is he?"

"Silence, bitch. I can pull the trigger, you know. This car is soundproof."

So he keeps his silence. He is sure that they have exited the hotel's parking lot, yet after that he draws a blank slate. He isn't familiar with London.

"You are a delightful surprise," the man drawls. Yao stifles a gasp as the cold muzzle of the gun slides underneath his shirt. Goose bumps pop out onto his flesh. "No wonder he wants you so badly."

The cryptic conversation starter does no good for Yao. He tries to decipher what the man means, but fails.

"Who..Who are you, aru?"

"You can call me Arthur." The man chuckles. "I wonder how delicious you are compared to your brother…"

"What did you do to him?" Yao demands in a whisper. He doesn't want to get blown before he makes sure Hong Kong is fine.

"Hmm… We are almost there."

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><p>Yao swallows hard as the car stops.<p>

He can't see anything, but can smell the damp, humid air around him. The man suddenly whoops him up into the bridal-style hug, and he feels himself being taken down into some kind of small, cramped enclosure.

The blindfold is ripped off. Yao blinks.

He is inside some kind of ship. Perhaps a yacht. There is a window on the wall, but it is covered with black cloth. The boat is rocking gently as though on calm water. It feels just like Ivan's summer yacht.

"Welcome, Yao-san."

Yao holds his breath as he realizes that all his previous suspicions are confirmed. The man walking towards him is someone he knows very, very well.

Kiku. Honda Kiku.

"Kiku! What is this, aru? What have you done with my brother!"

"Oh, him?" Kiku sighs. "You've come at just the right time. He won't stop crying and it's getting annoying."

Yao cannot believe his eyes as he watches the man called Arthur roughly pulling his brother, _naked_, out from the other room behind them.

His brother, his stoic little brother, is sobbing like a small child.

"Yao _ge_… Yao _ge_…" he cries, his tears streaming down. "Yao _ge_… Help me…"

"Hong!"

Upon hearing his name, Hong Kong's neck snaps up to see his oldest brother standing inside the same room.

"_Gege_…" He breaks down. "_Gege_…"

Yao's heart is breaking as his brother calls piteously for him. It is all he can do to keep from bursting into tears himself. The boy looks like he had been violated against his will. Despite the clean state of his body, the boy is deathly pale, stark naked, and sporting cuts all over his body as well as dark bruises on his face and wrists. Hong Kong's limbs are tied together so that he can barely stand.

Yao whirls on Honda Kiku. "I'm going to kill you!"

Kiku barely misses losing half his teeth as Yao's right foot connects with the left side of his face. The Japanese man is knocked nearly to the railing while Yao crashes to the deck, his cuffed hands having left him off-balance.

_Click_.

Arthur is pressing the muzzle of the gun into the hinge of Xiang Gang's jaw. "Make one more move and you'll have to mop your little brother off the floor."

"No!" Yao stops struggling. "He hasn't done anything to you! He's just a child!"

"Then I want your word that you'll do as we say," Arthur orders.

"This is crazy! You can't do this!"

"Okay." Arthur removes the gun from Xiang Gang's head and slides his hands towards the boy's slender thighs. He starts kissing his ear.

Yao says, trepidation evident in his voice, "I'll do what you ask."

"What was that?" Kiku nods at Arthur, who continues to kiss Xiang Gang. "We couldn't quite hear you."

"I said I'll do what you ask," Yao repeats more clearly.

Kiku wipes off his chin and smiles as he takes him time approaching Yao's prostate form.

"What are you…" Yao narrows his eyes.

Lunging, Kiku seizes Yao and presses his lips fiercely against his. Yao twists and groans as Kiku attempts, in vain, to slip in his tongue. They break apart. "You need to calm down." Kiku removes a sickly-smelling rag from his pocket and plants the rag directly on top of the Chinese man's face.

Kiku frowns as they wrestle and realizes that Yao is trying to hold his breath. Curling his hand into a fist, he kidney-punches Yao a couple times until Yao is forced to take a deep breath. After several moments, Yao's groans subside as he starts spasming.

Xiang Gang's screaming is only stifled when Arthur clamps a firm hand over his mouth.

Kiku uses his right hand to keep the rag planted over Yao's nose and mouth as his left hand goes to work unbuttoning Yao's pants. He slides his hand in between Yao's legs, wraps his fingers about Yao's length and starts stroking mercilessly.

"Sorry to do this to you, Yao-san," Kiku whispers in his ear. "But I have to put you out so we can get to bed." He rubs extra hard at the word "bed." Yao thrusts out at this point, but the drug is completely overpowering him and he quickly sinks back in a deep moan.

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><p>More smut ahead!<p>

Review?


	4. Chapter 4

Truthfully, Arthur had not in the least bit been prepared for the arrival of Yao. He had seen photos, of course, even a screenshot of Yao's face on the giant bastard's—sorry—Ivan's cell, but none of them had done Yao justice.

Yao is slumped over heavily in Kiku's lap now, with Kiku running his hands along the sides of his waist and ribs as he removes his clothes. The Chinese man's back is towards Arthur, and Arthur does not want him to be turned around just yet. He observes Yao from the back, the way his chest slopes gently into his waist, which is pliant and lithe, and then does not flare out at all as the lines of his body run smoothly down narrow hips to long, shapely legs.

Kiku turns Yao's face gently to the side as he begins removing the man's shirt. He glances up briefly, but with the completely preoccupied look in his eyes it's not clear if Kiku is even aware Arthur is still in the room.

Yao sighs in his sleep. His breathing is even and graceful as he half-consciously opens his lids, and Arthur finds himself leaning unconsciously to observe that face in closer detail.

The photos were poor reproductions. Arthur is not prepared for the golden eyes, the small, heart-shaped mouth with lips that are parted just slightly; the translucence of the skin, which is smooth as amber yet deep and warm as a perfectly brewed tea. Arthur himself is strikingly handsome, but this man makes him feel homely by contrast. Arthur's hands long to touch that porcelain cheek, that long, dark hair—it cannot be as soft as it looks.

"You take care of his brother?" Kiku's voice, jarring, breaks Arthur out of his reverie.

Arthur had carried Xiang Gang back into his room and had locked him there.

"What's next?" They had never intended on letting Xiang Gang go.

"We discussed this. Break the younger one, and sell him to the highest bidder."

"After proper training he'll fetch at least a couple million."

"This one stays."

"We're not breaking him?"

"No." For the second time that day, Kiku smiles. "Not completely. Bring him to the brink, but he is not to be broken."

Yao's eyes flutter open as Kiku ties a black cloth tightly around his mouth. A smothered whine escapes.

"Is the camera ready?" Arthur nods.

"I bet his fiancé will love these shots." Arthur grins as he levels the lens at Yao. Kiku places the flat edge of a switchblade against Yao's throat and uses the other hand to part his bare legs. Smiling, Kiku puts his chin on Yao's shoulder and looks directly into the lens.

Yao's head arches back as Kiku pumps him with one hand, growing hard despite himself.

"Bring his brother in." Arthur looks up from taking pictures of Yao's spread legs, giving a conspiratorial smile.

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><p>Kiku grabs Yao's head and roughly fucks his throat, pulling his hair to ensure Yao takes his entire length. Behind Yao, Arthur thrusts; every movement of his hips push in and out of him so forcefully that a trickle of blood starts coursing down Yao's thighs. Every time Yao widens his mouth to cry out, the penis in his mouth scrapes the back of his throat.<p>

Kiku comes and Yao's hips twist as he lets out a muffled scream. _Such a cute cry_, Kiku murmurs to himself. Yao sucks and swallows as fast as he can, but a dribble of Kiku's cum oozes down his chin and past his throat.

"Your new diet," Arthur hisses behind him, shuddering in pleasure. He pulls out, his weeping cock leaving thin ropy strings.

Hong Kong stares in horror at the trails of white streaming down Yao's legs.

"I've had the French fries," Arthur grins sadistically. "Now I've just had the Big Mac! Both of them! Don't look so sad, kid. Your brother was the one who messed things up for us, and you got dragged into it. Here, I'll make you feel all better."

Arthur grabs Xiang Gang's forearm and scoops him up. He forces the boy to wrap his legs around his hips.

"Don't touch him!" Yao, his head previously bowed, suddenly starts as Kiku snakes an arm possessively around his waist. Yao struggles in Kiku's grip as he watches Arthur carry Xiang Gang to the table in the center of the room, his panicked golden eyes becoming wilder and more cat-like.

"Calm down. Look at me," Kiku murmurs. His strong, unrelenting hand caresses Yao's face and tilts his head upwards as Kiku bends to kiss him. Yao shivers as Kiku firmly pushes his tongue down his throat. After breaking the kiss, Kiku nips his chin almost gently.

Arthur has draped the boy across the table. Xiang Gang writhes as Arthur raises the long legs over his shoulders.

Yao wrests away from Kiku. "Stop! What the hell are you doing!"

Arthur glances at him. "I thought he told you to calm down."

"You promised you wouldn't touch him!"

Arthur backhands Xiang Gang brutally across the face.

"Because you refuse to follow orders, I'm afraid I'm going to have to rip him apart. If your brother had shut up, kid, I would've gone easy on you—you wouldn't have to endure this."

Xiang Gang suddenly narrows his eyes in Yao's direction. The glare is only present for a split second; nonetheless, Yao's heart drops into the pit of his stomach.

A horrid numbness seems to enshroud Yao as he watches, helplessly, his little brother being raped. Arthur grabs Xiang Gang's thin shoulders and sucks greedily on his neck as the child wriggles and gives short, piercing screams. After the rough thrusts finally start to subside, Xiang Gang seizes and nearly passes out when the Britain comes in him.

Xiang Gang comes to as he feels himself lowered onto the floor. He curls onto his side and faces the wall.

Arthur hitches up his pants. He drags Yao over and throws him over Xiang Gang's still form.

"Clean up after your sweet little kid first," Arthur commands. "Then clean me up."

Tears spring to Yao's eyes as he pushes his tongue into Xiang Gang's soaked entrance.

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><p>"He can't still be out sick," Ivan argues into the cell. "No, that makes no sense. It's been three days. Something is <em>really fucking wrong<em>!"

"Ivan, another call for you," Toris calls out meekly from behind him. "I think it—"

Ivan swipes the other phone that the Lithuanian is holding. "Braginsky here."

"You lucky son of a bitch." Ivan stiffens as Toris backs out of the room.

"Who is this?"

The man on the other line audibly smirks. "He's extraordinary, isn't he? It's not fair to keep someone like that all to yourself."

"Arthur." Ivan's lip curls. "What have you done with Yao?"

Chortling on the other end. "I do feel sorry for you. It must have been torture, dealing with such disappointments."

"What are you talking about?"

"I popped your little bitch's cherry yesterday. From the looks and feel of it, you definitely haven't ever gotten any…or at least not in _months_. Size issues, huh?"

Ivan's back hits the chair so hard it crumples only a couple inches from the floor.

"Guess you could never get it to fit, could you?"

The polymer jacket of the cell cracks open under the pressure of the clutching hand.

"Don't worry. I'm taking good care of your kitty."

"…What do you want."

"I'll let you know in a moment."

A high-pitched beep signals an incoming email. There's an attachment.

"Open it."

The attachment is taking a moment to load. Ivan's eyes dart across the room as he tries to probe his tormentor. "You resort to this level of extortion, and you call ME a 'monster.'"

"I'm still a man of the law, Braginsky. And you are way, way, deep on the other side. Bring the files from the raid on the 17th. Or I'll have your little kitten sucking and fucking every high-paying client we come across for the rest of his natural life."

Ivan pulls up the photos.

"And we have a hell of a lot of high-paying clients."

He would have vomited, he longs to vomit—but with pure concentration he keeps the nausea at bay.

"You hear me?"

Ivan's voice is impassive, "I hear you, motherfucker."

"The files from the 17th. You have one week. London. I'll forward you the address."


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur is scratching notes when a wave violently collides against the boat, causing his wine glass to tip. The glass shatters all over the floor.

Cursing, he reaches down with a cloth napkin. In that moment he suddenly remembers Alfred—who had come upon Arthur one night in almost exactly the same position- and then it's suddenly impossible to finishing mopping it up, to focus, to even move a muscle.

"_Art? What are you still doing up?"_

It was Alfred who he'd first loved.

Hastily, he directs his gaze back towards the desk, but his eyes land on his badge and then the distinct memory of their very first meeting, years and years ago, immediately re-surfaces.

"_Are you my new partner?" At that moment, the police chief enters the room and heartily claps one hand on Alfred's shoulder. He almost has to stand on his tip-toes._

_Arthur studies the man's face. Alfred's light blue eyes are deep yet open-seeming. They look innocent, yet mischievous._

"_I've noticed you around," Alfred says by way of greeting, his mouth shaped in a seemingly perpetual grin._

"_I've never noticed you," Arthur replies gruffly, lying through his teeth. He had definitely taken note of the tall, striking blonde figure navigating his way through the offices earlier that week._

In taking Alfred under his wing, practically raising the exuberant man-child, Arthur had discovered things he had not known about himself. That was when he trusted, that was when he held back nothing.

He and Alfred had done everything together, been everywhere together. They said the word "we" so often that the word "I" came with difficulty to their lips. And then, perhaps a year into their partnership, Arthur realized he could not love without lovemaking, and that became the center of Arthur's yearning. And so he and Alfred shared everything and it seemed like it would go on forever.

"_I just have a bad feeling." _

_Alfred had stroked his cheek. Arthur's mouth moved, almost like the sucking instinct of an infant's._

"_I'll be alright."_

"_Is it another weapons shipment to Moscow?"_

_Alfred nodded. "Mob related. This time it's going to be dropped off at Ivan Braginsky's warehouse."_

"_Braginksy." The name made Arthur's skin crawl. "Alfred, don't take this assignment."_

"_Art—"_

"_Have them send Bonnefoy. You're staying here." _

"_Hold on! What's gotten into you?"_

"_Listen. I've dealt with Braginsky a few times, long before you strolled into our unit, probably before you were even born. He's got the makings of a real ball-busting mob boss; in other words, he is just about legally insane. In fact, I'd go as far as to say he's a fucking lunatic. I-"_

"_Thanks for the warning, chief." Alfred rolled onto his stomach. "I __**have**__ already met him, you know."_

"_When?"_

"_That New Years hotel lounge cocktail party. I even got to meet his little Chinese boyfriend, who didn't say a damn word all night except to stare into that giant bastard's eyes." The American officer stretched and frowned at the stucco ceiling. "Man, but that Chinese was a looker. That Ivan is one lucky bast-"_

"_I don't want you to go. Stay in London."_

"_Old man, you've been attaching to me like a bloodsucker to a shark."_

"_I don't like that analogy."_

"_I'm not a poet, Arthur, I'm the bloody hero in this story, and as the bloody hero I have to vanquish the criminals of the world, in order to feed my own disgusting ambition," Alfred said, in such a horrid put-on British accent that Arthur had to laugh out loud. Alfred pulled him close; a moment later they were lost in a deep kiss. _

_Alfred's eyes were closed as he broke it. "One for the road," he whispered._

The American had spoken his last words to Arthur.

A day later, Arthur was summoned to the police chief's office. His heart dropped into his stomach , the blood in his veins turned to ice the moment his eyes fell the onsite counselor seated across the desk.

The mission had, inexplicably, gone wrong. Somehow, Ivan Braginsky had clearly anticipated Alfred's arrival, and the fake shipment they'd left behind was rigged. After the detonation and the devastating consuming explosion, there was practically nothing left of the warehouse but splinters.

"What about my partner?"

The counselor had looked at him in that professionally sympathetic way, "I'm sorry."

They couldn't even find enough of Alfred to fill a casket.

* * *

><p>The doorknob turns. That would be dinner.<p>

Yao turns onto his side as Arthur puts the tray in front of him. He stiffens but does not remove his arm from around Hong Kong, who has fallen into an exhausted sleep beside him.

Arthur grins to himself as he observes the glaring dark-haired figure. He is so close to bringing the giant, cold-blooded, murdering bastard down to his knees. All it had required was stealing his favorite porcelain doll.

Arthur empties the dry food into a dog dish and drops it onto the floor. "Eat." When Yao refuses to move, Arthur grasps the dog collar around Yao's neck and drags him out of bed. His harsh eyes rake Yao's naked body from head to toe.

Yao begins to eat. Only his pride keeps his cheeks from burning in shame. When he finishes, Arthur hands him a glass full of what appears to be orange juice.

Severely dehydrated, Yao gulps the glass, feeling Arthur's eyes boring into the back of his skull. It tastes funny—too sweet- and he soon feels his limbs getting heavy, his body feeling too warm.

Arthur picks him up and carries him bridal-style to the same room he and Hong Kong were raped in earlier. Yao can't seem to initiate any physical mechanisms to fight back; the drugged drink has obviously made him easier to handle, limp and compliant.

"We are concerned with your sucking," Arthur says, placing him upright so that he is balanced on his knees. He removes his own pants. "We would like you to improve upon your technique right away. We will work on your hands on a later date."

"I know why you're doing this," Yao snaps.

"Shut up, worthless whore."

"The best form of revenge is not to directly hurt those responsible, but their loved ones instead, isn't it? You scum."

Arthur seizes the back of Yao's head. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be thoroughly tamed, you cheap slave slut." Two fingers coated thoroughly with lubricant are inserted into him, into unyielding tucks of flesh, followed by what feels like a huge, knobbed, hard—Yao nearly loses consciousness as he screams louder than he'd ever had in his life.

Slowly, it is pushed into him, a cock so thick that he cannot believe it can go inside, but Arthur pushes it further, steadily filling him. Yao screams and screams as it seems to go on forever, pushing, forcing its way. Hypnotically, Arthur watches Yao's full lips contort into the screams—there's nothing he'd like more this instant than to feel those lips suctioned to, rubbing up and down his shaft.

Through the film of tears, Yao cries out as he realizes that Arthur is holding a controller and a cord. It's not Arthur, it's not even human, the cord is attached to whatever is filling him now-

Arthur presses a button, and Yao's entire body is wracked in spasms of excruciating pain. Yao pants and gasps, crying louder and harder with every passing moment. The thick, inflexible vibrator is so big, Yao feels as though he's being ripped apart. Arthur grabs Yao and pushes Yao's face into his lap.

The haze of pain makes Yao oblivious to what is happening. He works the thickness in his mouth-it is perfect for reflex sucking. The terrible combination of the bondage, the drugging and especially the egg vibrator throbbing inside Yao drives him insane as the shocks slowly travel down, below his stomach. He slips into a trance as his head bobs up and down into Arthur's lap, vaguely overhearing Arthur's grunts of pleasure. He hears screaming inside his head, but they emerge only as little whimpers against Arthur's thickness in his mouth.

Two hours later, Yao seizes as he comes for the fourth or fifth time and is subsequently awarded with another flood of warm cum. He clamps his lips around the base of Arthur's cock as the foul-tasting liquid squirts into his throat, feeling as though his aching jaw is about to fall off as he swallows hard, sucks, and swallows again.

Yao whimpers half-consciously as Arthur lowers him to the floor, as the climaxes slowly wind down.

"You have a wicked tongue," Arthur says thickly, putting away the vibrator. "Too bad I can't chain you to my desk at work and have you taste me all day."

Arthur carries him back to his room. Before leaving, he ties the two brothers together, back to back with their arms and wrists looped around each other, and locks the door shut behind him.

* * *

><p>Kiku is waiting up. Arthur jumps when he sees him.<p>

"What are you doing in here?"

Kiku sets down his glass of sake. "I thought we agreed that we are only to train Yao together. Why did you bring him out by yourself?"

The voice has a none-so-subtle edge. Arthur bristles. "He needs extra practice."

"You were thinking of Alfred again, weren't you?"

Arthur brushes past him and start putting away his notes. Kiku grips his arm, firmly enough that he can't easily get away.

"Listen, Kirkland. If you bring him out again without me, the deal is off."

Arthur shrugs and tries to play it off, "I can't help it. He's got such a beautiful face. He's going to have to hurt for that face."

"You can't break our agreement whenever you start pining for your old partner."

"You don't understand."

"Oh?" Kiku raises an eyebrow. "Lots of people's partners die, Arthur. They don't go around sexually abusing even their murderer's loved ones, though."

With one good shake, Arthur breaks free.

"What's gotten into you?" the Brit suddenly asks harshly. "You hate him, don't you?"

The Japanese looks down at his sake. "Yes and no."

"What the hell does that mean?"

Kiku's staring at the dregs of the sake compels Arthur to wonder if he hadn't heard the question, but he suddenly opens his mouth. "I hate him, but I love him. I know I love him because I HATE him!" The last sentence rings in the air.

Arthur has no idea how to reply to that.

Kiku picks up his glass and stands up. "Ivan should be here in about forty-eight hours," he murmurs, not even glancing at Arthur as he heads out the door.

Suddenly feeling especially weary, Arthur abandons his notes and lies down on his bunk.

Every night, before he falls asleep, he mediates and thinks of Alfred—but tonight, in spite of his best efforts, he keeps seeing the way that long dark silky hair falls around Yao's neck, and feeling the feather-soft touch of that ivory skin. He tries to take Yao's frightened face out of his mind. And he fails.


	6. Chapter 6

Xiang Gang doesn't smile for real anymore—when his mouth stretches, it's to placate his master, right before he obediently takes him in his mouth or presents himself to be filled. If a single tear falls, he is beaten.

In a distressingly short amount of time, Yao has witnessed his little brother becoming increasingly inured to being reduced to a wanton sex toy—not only ready to submit, but many times willingly. The beatings, druggings, manipulation, degradation, and exhaustion have not yet broken Yao, but on a child like Xiang Gang, it was more than enough.

Over the course of several days, the yacht has pulled up to different ports all over the surrounding Channel and sea, where Yao and Xiang Gang have regularly serviced various clients. At night, they are given cold showers, led on leashes to eat dry food from dog plates, and usually toyed with by either Arthur or Kiku or both until they succumb from exhaustion. Xiang Gang still lets Yao wrap his arms protectively encasing him while the boy sleeps, while Yao wonders silently if he will ever get his old brother back.

Then, everything suddenly comes to a head as one of Yao's worst fears—that they are not the only ones resigned to this type of fate—materializes.

Kiku —one of the bastards who'd helped break his little brother—makes a new announcement today, as he stands in the doorway to the brothers' room.

"You'll be entertaining some guests tonight. Get ready."

When Yao doesn't move, Kiku carries him to the tub. He is painstakingly gentle as he washes and smoothes lotion over Yao, warming his body as he thoroughly cleanses him. Kiku presses Yao down so that his insides can be cleaned, and water is flushed through him as he kneels.

After the bathing, Kiku wraps him in warm towels. Every inch of Yao is rubbed with a fragrant oil. Kiku's cotton-soft palms seem to be all over Yao, and despite himself, it becomes erotic. Yao's nipples swell a bit, and a blush rises to his cheeks.

Arthur appears at this point and puts the collar and leash on Yao, leading and smuggling him into an entrance on another, much larger yacht that has docked adjacent theirs. They don't stop until they reach the backstage area of a theatre of sorts. Arthur takes Yao's bound wrists, pulls them in front of him and yanks them upwards. Yao hears a click, and feels his wrists straining within straps around them as he is pulled up towards the ceiling so that only his toes are touching the floor.

When the bag is lifted off Yao's head, he finds himself staring at his own reflection in two pairs of brown eyes belonging to two skinny, naked boys about his height, with spiky brown hair and beautiful faces.

"These are Thailand and Macau," Arthur smiles, placing a firm hand on each of the boys' backs. "They were acquired only recently, but they're already sucking on expert levels. You're excellent sluts, aren't you, Thailand? Macau?"

They don't reply outright, but both stretch their mouths into that horrible parody of a smile that Yao has seen many times before on Xiang Gang's face. Arthur removes a strip of black cloth from his shirt pocket and blindfolds Yao. His hands linger on the sides of the Chinese man's face. A shiver crawls up Yao's spine.

"Get to it."

Yao cannot believe what is happening when he hears two loud thuds and feels one hot mouth immediately engulfing his length, another attaching onto his backside. Yao thrashes against the ropes and cries out as his length is teased, sucked and licked and sucked, while he is simultaneously mercilessly rimmed.

"Stop! No! NO!"

It doesn't stop. The talented tongues lick and squeeze almost leisurely, the one in front progressing in tiny increments, from the base of his shaft to his tip. Yao's cries involuntarily melt into loud moans.

He hears sighing and shuffling, strange sounds… the theatre must already be filled with others…! With a jolt, he becomes aware of another voice, too, unbearably loud and painfully familiar.

Feedback erupts somewhere above him. Someone blares into a microphone, "And now we have something special for your entertainment tonight, ladies and gentlemen….for your pleasure only…"

Horrified, Yao realizes that his breathless moans are being magnified by a loudspeaker and broadcast over the auctioneer's announcements. The sighing in the audience is getting louder. He wonders if he himself is being broadcast live as well, and whether the audience thinks he is there willingly. Tears slide down his face. There is no way to let the audience know he is not.

The blindfold is ripped off, and Arthur ties the cloth in his mouth, sidestepping the hunched figures of the two young boys at Yao's feet.

Through the haze, a familiar outline catches the corner of his eye. Yao glimpses the face of little Xiang Gang in the line of young boys being auctioned on the stage. Tears stream down his face as the moans of pleasure refuse to die in his throat.

* * *

><p>Taiwan swallows hard.<p>

Oh God, how she wanted to puke. What they did to the boys on the stage was far, far from lawful. It wasn't even humane. The boys were treated like pigs, like animals; their heads were covered with black cloths, their bodies stripped stark naked and legs forced opened for show ("_Ladies and Gentlemen, let's have another bidding, shall we? Smooth skin and small cute nipples on this number!")_. Legs were pulled as wide as they could ("_acrobatic and malleable!")_, and then they hung the boys with ropes ("_obedient and moans well!")_. The boys' asses were opened wide with speculums ("_unused virgins, very tight!")_.

Standing beside the boys was the muscular, half-naked executioner, complete with a black mask, tight leather stripes and pants. But the sickest sight of all was the audience. The room was booming and busy, filled with shouts and other loud noises. Everybody was delighted in their own sick way, and everybody was bidding for the boys on the stage.

"_Do you want this delicious ass?"_

Behold the slave auction.

The auction had been going on in full swing for one full hour already, yet there was no sign of her brothers-either of them. Beside her, the Russian man calmly sips at his wine glass, silently watching the show and the bidding. Taiwan realizes why, initially, Ivan had refused to take her along. Her brothers were missing and all she could do was wait and wring her hands at home? No, she wasn't like that. She wanted to save them with her own two hands. And she was a Tai Qi master, for God's sake; she knew how to protect herself. So when Ivan—bowing to the floor—had informed her that the reason Yao Wang and Xiang Gang Kaoru were missing was because of him, Taiwan had kicked the Russian as hard as she could.

Ivan had received the kick blandly, not even flinching or otherwise bothering to defend himself. _Fair enough_. Taiwan quickly realized that there was no use in blaming the Russian and that she needed to concentrate on rescuing her brothers instead. And then Russia told her that, through his complex web of sources, he had received a semi-trustable hint of where Yao might turn up. But he'd refused to tell her where, had instead asked her to wait and trust his word.

"_Sold! For Nine hundred fifty million!"_

She wasn't a weak woman, and no, she wouldn't wait. Her trust for Ivan diminished the second she fully understood the situation. Her brothers were kidnapped and possibly dead because her oldest brother was in love and engaged to the Russian man.

"I know," she'd snarled. "I've known all along. The minute I first met you, despite all the cologne and conservative suits and nice haircuts, I was thinking 'Mob.'"

"Nice guesswork." Ivan had glared at her. "But erroneous. I work for the Russian government."

"You're a spy?"

Never before had it occurred to her that Ivan was actually an underground spy. She—they, the rest of the family—only thought of Ivan as a "director" of a financial company, using the front for his Mob activities.

"_Next! This Asian boy has a very delicious crop of hair and is very well trained! Cutest pee-pee you'd ever seen!..."_

So she had followed him to the auction. Ivan had caught her right in front of the entrance, and since they were already arousing suspicion, Ivan had simply brought her together with him.

At this point the room is getting even more heated.

"…_and the main point: he is a natural masochist!" _

Another boy is taken to the stage. This time, the silhouette of the boy brings a rush of familiar feelings to her.

"Brother!" she exclaims aloud, voice choked.

Ivan flinches. The MC starts the bidding.

"_I heard seven hundred thousand once…_"

"Two million," Ivan shouts suddenly, his voice cutting across the noises in the room.

The whole room turns completely silent. The MC smiles cunningly.

"_I hear two million once…. Yes? Anyone else?_"

But he is greeted by more silence. Everybody is beyond amused at the price. Two million, for a scrawny, inexperienced young boy? This is getting interesting and intriguing.

The MC realizes that he can't possibly get more than that. And it is definitely a very delicious sum anyway.

"_Two million!_ _I heard it once! I heard it twice! …. I heard it thrice! SOLD to the man over THERE!" _

The fake clapping sounds from the speaker fill the room.

* * *

><p>Years from now, Taiwan will still never forget the look on Ivan's face when they saw who was behind the black cloth.<p>

Her little brother Hong Kong looks serene, as though he were heavily drugged and didn't know where he was or who he was. But Ivan's face would haunt her until her dying day.

It was rage, pure rage.

Because Hong Kong wasn't Yao.


	7. Chapter 7

"You stink."

Yao flinches. He wraps his arms around himself tighter. His naked body is exposed to the chilling air. He is getting pretty used to it, but when his dark haired master tells him that he stinks, Yao feels his spine trembling. In fear and from the cold.

"Come."

He is called like a dog. He crawls like a dog. His master won't let him walk. He is supposed to crawl on all fours. Yao swallows hard and starts to move on his four limbs.

He is aware of the other master's fixation on his naked, moving ass.

"Do you think the shower head can enter his hole?" his blond master asks.

"Saa? Maybe we should try." The dark haired master smirks, and Yao shivers even harder. A shower head? Into his ass? Or his mouth? It is un-imaginable, and Yao knows it will be painful, but he also knows from previous experience that they would never give him something that is not hurtful. Yet his body has learned to turn these pains into pleasure, making a part of him giddy with anticipation.

"Faster."

Yao moves his limbs faster, and he is surprised when suddenly his ass as grabbed by the blond master.

"Arthur, he needs a bath. You can fuck him afterwards."

"His ass is too tempting."

"Yes, but wait." The dark haired master smirks like a devil. "Waiting makes everything more worth it."

The blond man stops touching Yao's ass and sighs. "…Whatever."

"Sicko."

He is ordered to go into the bathtub. Yao compels and stands on all fours, waiting for his master's next orders, like a faithful dog. Suddenly the cold water bursts against his skin. Yao feels his skin tighten. Goosebumps appear everywhere. His body starts to shiver, and he whimpers, unintentionally.

He knows he shouldn't whimper. His cheek is slapped hard in the next moment.

"Stop whimpering, bitch."

Yao bites his lips, but his eyes start to get wet. He didn't want it to happen, it wasn't intentional; he is very cold and the temperature is unbearable. It is... _unfair_ that he got slapped because of an unintentional whimper.

"Ooh… you've started crying again." The dark haired master coos at him, pulling his face towards him. Yao looks up, and between the tears, he can see gray-brown, penetrating eyes peering at him tenderly.

"Don't cry, hmm?"

Yao doesn't know how to react. It is true that his dark haired master is being gentle, yet it can all change in a matter of seconds. His dark haired master is even harder to read than his blond one. His blond master always wants sex and sex and that's it, while his dark haired master can be very gentle, yet even crueller than his blond master, when he wants to be.

So Yao whimpers again, but without sound.

He is shocked when their lips meet. The dark haired master licks his lips, asking Yao to open his mouth. Yao surrenders, and as he opens his mouth, he can taste the other man… fucking his mouth harshly with his tongue.

Yao whimpers again, this time from a very different reason from the last.

"Now, now." The Asian master chuckles. "Don't be greedy."

Yao wants more, but all of a sudden his mouth is filled with his dark haired master's fingers. Three all at once. Yao automatically wraps his lips around the fingers, licking and wetting them.

Meanwhile, he feels his master's other hand washing his back. His body rocks back and forth as his master's hand soaps up his skin. The smell of cheap soap fills his nose, but it is a very welcome change from the usual fishy smell of sperm.

"Stop rocking him. I'm getting hard." His blond master's voice filters through the bathroom door. Yao visibly flinches and his whole body stiffens.

"Now now, relax." It isn't clear to whom his dark haired master is talking, but Yao lets himself relax. "You can fuck him now as I wash his back, if you want."

Yao flinches, his breath hikes. He is going to be fucked again. His sphincter muscles involuntarily tighten, reliving the memory of having thick rods of various origins inside him. He can actually hear the blond master licking his lips in desire.

"Nice one, Kiku. Hold him."

"Nah, you should do it yourself. I won't stop washing him. He stinks like rotten fish."

"I'd do him anyway."

"What the hell is your problem?"

Yao listens to the banter between his two masters. They don't actually get along well, but every time they fight, it always ends with Yao being sandwiched between them.

Apparently, it is no different this time.

Yao is crying. His body is rocking hard, being penetrated and pushed by the blond master's body. Yao is being fucked doggy style, inside the cramped bathroom, such that he can't move even if he wants to, and the small area lets his master's dick penetrate him deeper. He is normally rather used to the sensation; however, this time it is different. His other master continues washing his neck and chest.

The fingers washing his neck are very teasing. They tickle his small Adam's apple, making Yao moan even higher in pitch. His master's other hand is busy washing his chest, brushing his nipples softly. It is very different from the usual nipple torment he endures. All the sensations make Yao moan even harder.

"He is getting noisy."

"It's your fault, eyebrows. Stop pushing on his prostate."

"You too, stop pulling his nipples."

"They are getting redder, see? It's cute. It's amusing."

"Hell, then I ain't going to stop. Put something in his mouth."

His dark haired master sighs and pushes the shower head roughly into Yao's mouth. Yao stops moaning and starts choking on his own saliva.

"Hey, that reminds me. We should put that into this hole." His blond master snickers and pulls out of Yao. His hard member is standing erect on its own, almost ready to ejaculate. "Pass that to me, will ya?"

His other master sighs and pulls the shower head from Yao's mouth, passing it to the blond guy.

"Watch this." The man smirks as he pushes the shower head into Yao's anus.

A moment later, Yao _screams_. When the shower head had first entered him, it had felt narrow and easy to swallow. However, the head had now spread in his insides like nothing he'd ever taken before. Yao feels so exposed, and when he tries to contract his muscles, the head plunges even deeper.

"Fucking amazing shit!"

"Hey, be careful. It might hurt him."

Yao whimpers and turns his watery eyes towards both of his masters. He sees that they are concentrating only on his ass.

His chest stings.

He starts to sob. His sobbing voice alerts both his masters and they pull the shower head from his ass.

"I think that's all for now." His blond master speaks softly. "Ah, I came just from that little shower show."

"Premature ejaculation?" The dark haired master snickers.

"Shut up, you little son of a bitch!"

Yao sees his blond master leaving the bathroom. His other master smiles.

"Now now, let's continue our bathing, Yao~"

His body is dried with an old towel. It stinks, but anything is better than staying wet. His master dabs the towel all around him, drying him slowly.

"How was the bath?"

Yao looks up to see his master smiling at him. He smiles back.

"You liked it? Good girl."

Yao blushes.

Looking at the blushes on his cheek, Kiku smiles to himself. Yes, his slave is very pretty when he acts shy.

He doesn't know why, but a sudden urge compels him to pull Yao up into his arms. Yao is not exactly light, but not heavy either. It is like carrying a sack of rice. It isn't easy, and Kiku starts to worry that he might drop Yao, but Yao slings his arms around Kiku's neck and buries his face on Kiku's chest. Yao's limbs are very slender and rather thin, but his hair and skin now smell way better than before.

Kiku inhales the scent deeply into his lungs.

"Just this time, I'll let you be spoiled. Though, don't expect too much."

Yao barely nods as he let himself be carried by his master, out of the bathroom.


	8. Chapter 8

Ivan pours himself another glass of vodka.

His doctor has only allowed him two glasses per day, but he needs more alcohol, now, and fast. He is inside his own apartment, anyway, so even if he gets stinking drunk, the chances of him being responsible for any kind of public destruction (which would not only blow his cover but also ruin his reputation) are small. And he is allowing himself to bring his guard down for once. His apartment has the best security system and staff. He will allow himself a single night of weakness.

He knows he is the one responsible for Yao's fate. The images Arthur had sent to him via cell, showing Yao in such a horrific condition, had made him want to pump bullets into everyone around him, including himself. Maybe he could even orchestrate another massacre of the police force or of the federal agency. But hell, he wants Yao back. He wants the small Asian man who always smiled beside him, loving him fully, treating him like the human he was, way back when. It hurts.

"_Your eyes are purple, aru! Are those contacts?"_

"_No, it's my natural color."_

"_Oh. You have very beautiful eyes, mister!"_

_Usually people would call him a demon on sight. Nobody had ever before called his eyes "pretty," except those sluts they had once sent to seduce him and who had pinpointed his identity as a spy. Maybe this Chinese beauty was a spy too?_

_What a pity._

The fragmented memories of being with Yao make him want to cry, make him feel scared at the same time. Forcing himself to try to not remember makes him feel worse. He crushes the vodka glass inside his hands, feeling no pain, and staring as his palm bleeds. He stares and stares at his dripping hand. It is scratched everywhere, but the blood gushing out is red. He is still human… isn't he?

_But how come they'd sent him a male prostitute instead? Ivan chuckled to himself. Maybe it was because he'd never gone for the beautiful mistresses they had tried to trap him with, so they must have eventually concluded he had to be gay. What a stupid joke. _

_And then he watched as the Chinese man suddenly rose to leave, bowing and opening the door to exit the hotel room. _

"_Wait!" Ivan found his voice, and was surprised he was able to speak. "You… You haven't done anything…"_

_The Chinese man appeared confused. "I have finished arranging the sunflowers in the vase, sir. Just what the hotel had ordered me to."_

"…_Aren't you here for me?"_

"_For…?" For a moment Yao looked confused, but then he blushed deeply. "Shame on you! I am not an escort! I run my own respectable flower arranging company. How dare you think of me as some kind of slut! Which part of me screams "slut" to you?"_

_Without another word, Yao turned on his heel and marched. He was halfway out the main door of the hotel when he felt a very large hand close down on his wrist. "It's impolite to get up and leave in the middle of a conversation, you know."_

"_What do you want?" Yao struggled in the iron grip._

"_To give you a ride home."_

"_I don't even know you!" _

"_Little sunflower arranger," Ivan said, tightening his grip so that Yao was forced to stop struggling or have deep bruises left on his wrist, "are you sure about this?"_

"_About what?" Yao glanced around and forced himself to remain calm; someone was bound to stop by the lobby to investigate any minute._

"_About us not being friends. I need a friend, you know. Even a scared-to-death, cute little lady like you."_

_Yao's mind whirled. "We can talk about this tomorrow, maybe? My brother is waiting for me to get back."_

"_I'll have my assistant Toris stop by your place and tell him you have a change of plans. Do you like polka?"_

"…_Please let me go, Mr. Braginsky."_

"_I prefer Ivan. You don't have to call me 'Mr. Braginsky.'" Ivan did what he'd wanted to do for the past half hour or so and reached out to touch that soft porcelain cheek. Yao stayed perfectly still. The large hand was warm and dry, and the touch was unexpectedly comforting. _

"_I'm sorry," Yao said, surprised at the reluctance in his own voice. "I'd just like to be left alone for now."_

_Ivan's eyes widened. "No, you don't."_

"_I know what I want."_

"_No, you don't."_

"_Well, if __**I**__ don't, you certainly don't."_

"_Yes, I do." Ivan pulled him close, and this time Yao let him enfold him in his arms._

Ivan remembers how his hand had trembled as he led Yao from the hall, as he took him to the limousine waiting outside. Ivan had seen wealth, had seen the opulence of his ancestor General Winter's palace in St. Petersburg, had seen the thousand most beautiful things that people made and bought and sold on all his missions and travels. None of them was worth the beauty that walked beside him, that held his hand, that gave a coy, reluctant smile at him as the doors to the Forbidden City hotel were closed behind them.

He knows that Yao must be broken by now. How many days have passed ever since he'd received the picture? How long could Yao endure? How long until… until Arthur sends him a photo of Yao's dead face?

_-Which part of me screams 'slut,' you idiot?_

_-You've liked me today, haven't you?_

_-Yes, yes, I will marry you. _

He shuts his eyes as a tear rolls down his face.

_-I love you, Ivan. _


	9. Chapter 9

6 years ago.

Kiku was standing outside smoking for barely five minutes when he decided he'd had enough. The endless investor meetings all day were getting unbearable, but not as much as this wind chill.

He dropped his cigarette and didn't miss a step as he ground it into the sidewalk, heading towards Jones Mutual Funds.

As he stepped past the foyer, right outside the main meeting room, Kiku could hear Mathieu's soft voice, and another person talking whose voice he didn't recognize. From the cadences, it sounded like a woman's.

Then the door creaked open, and Kiku gasped.

The Asian was thin, but his light complexion and slender build emulated a sense of translucence by the sunlight streaming through the window. And the Chinese man's features were beautiful; the kind of face that melted men's hearts as readily as women's. More readily.

"Hi," Yao said.

"The valet is back already?" Mathieu turned. "Oh, Kiku. Sorry, I thought you had stepped outside."

"I had," Kiku said. He was surprised he could speak.

"This is who I was telling you about, the owner of Peony Arrangements, Yao Wang. We were discussing options for investing in his venture. Join us for some beers, then."

Mathieu hauled some cold ones from the tub at the bar, and he and Yao quickly launched into an in-depth discussion concerning the differences between Canadian and Chinese, between wheat, barley, rice and rose beers. They found they shared a fondness for very hoppy beers, but were less inclined to order dark ones.

Kiku, however, said little, drank little. He tried to convince himself this was because his attention and mind were focused elsewhere, on tomorrow's affairs. Actually, his eyes precisely followed Mathieu and Yao's movements, mostly Yao's, as his hands described graceful patterns in the air, as his eyes crinkled with delight at flavors, at jokes, and sometimes at nothing at all, and how that mouth hinted at smiles and passion, simply enjoying where he was at the moment.

"Don't you think so, Kiku?" Mathieu was saying.

Kiku started. "I'm sorry. I think I dozed off."

"With your eyes wide open?" Mathieu laughed.

"It's getting late. Why don't we wrap this up tomorrow?" Yao said. "I better get back to Hong."

"Do you live far from here?" Kiku said immediately. Mathieu quickly stifled a chuckle—Kiku was usually known for his subtlety.

Yao blinked, but a look of understanding crossed his face. "Not too far, Ivan should be on his way already to pick me up. I'll be around tomorrow if you want to grab a drink."

As Yao left, Kiku turned directly to Mathieu. "Who the hell is Ivan?"

* * *

><p><span>Present Day<span>

Arthur hisses.

He sees the remains of his subordinate he'd sent to collect the documents from the specific address he'd given the bastard—Ivan.

His subordinate is still alive, poor man. His face isn't exactly a face anymore, due to the absence of the nose and one eye ball. And the poor man is crying hysterically, in pain, in pain, in pain.

The video had been sent to his satellite-untraceable cell phone.

His subordinate is begging them to kill him.

Then the video shows Ivan's smiley face.

"How was it? You enjoyed that?"

Arthur growls. But it is only a video that had been recorded several hours ago, so he is certain that his subordinate has already died, or else has undergone even more horrifying torture.

"Give me back Yao, or else…"

The video ends. Arthur punches the wall beside him. He didn't get the documents he wanted, and he has already lost one of his subordinates as well as the smaller boy. He shouldn't have let the boy be auctioned. _Ivan_ was the one who'd bought Hong Kong!

Now Ivan could trace where the money had gone and, subsequently, Arthur.

"What happened?" A voice startles him, making Arthur turn around. In front of him is the small Japanese. Arthur hisses.

"None of your business."

"You needed the documents from the raid on the 17th to properly implicate Ivan on illegal shipment charges, right? So you could arrest him or shoot him on the spot and not only get your full revenge for him killing your partner, but also to get to play the hero?" Kiku laughs. "So by-the-book you are, Officer, despite running a slave ring on the side!"

Arthur grinds his teeth as sweat beads pop out along his brow. "I'm a man of the law! I could have easily brought him in. I just wanted to make him sweat a little and bring his own death warrant to me, crawling on his fucking knees!"

"Wasn't kidnapping and enslaving his fiancée enough? Why did you have to drag it out and try to arrest him too? Does… does it have anything to do with carrying on Alfred's legacy of upholding the law? Promises, promises?"

The mention of Alfred's name seems to trigger every primal impulse in Arthur's body. "Shut up!" he orders hysterically.

"Well, maybe that is true, maybe it is none of my business." Kiku smiles gently and licks his lips. "But at any rate… I won't let you surrender my doll."

Arthur snaps and wants nothing more than to land a killing blow on the Japanese's smirking face, but he freezes when he sees Kiku's face up close. The Asian man might be smirking, but his eyes are so cold they burn.

"If I were you, I'd listen to my advice, Arthur."

"…Why?" Arthur roars. "Don't you hate him? Don't you hate the bitch? Why? Why? Why?" he babbles over and over.

"I am not able to hate him as much as I do without being able to love him just as much – to me the ultimate form of love is hate, and the ultimate form of hate is love."

"Why are you talking like this?"

"I've never hated anyone in my life as venomously as I have him," Kiku continues, as though Arthur hadn't interrupted. "At the same time, I've never loved anyone in my life as deeply I have him. I'm being sincere. Isn't that funny?" He smiles sadly.

"That makes no sense! Love isn't some pre-requisite for hate! I can hate someone without having any other feelings for them whatsoever."

"That doesn't necessarily mean you hate them. It actually probably means you just don't care."

"No, you're wrong!"

"Arthur, I love him. I hate him. I want to protect him. But I want to tear open his body too. You're young—when you've been in this kind of relationship as long as I, let's talk then. But now, you would never understand, Arthur. You would never understand."

"Try me!"

"I can't." Kiku sighs. "A person who's had his feelings returned, who has never experienced unrequited love, would never understand the feelings of rejected people like me."

* * *

><p>Yao's chest rises up and down slowly, deep in his sleep. Yao had finally cried himself to sleep, feeling the first rays of real despair and loneliness ever since he was kidnapped. He is beyond tired, physically and mentally. He wants so badly to rest, to sleep, so that he won't have to undergo any more sexual torture. He is fed up with all the sexual rituals, and now he's being forced to come to terms with losing his baby brother. His brother had been sold…. his brother would never return to him. And he knows the person who'd bought his little brother most likely doesn't have a single decent bone in his body…<p>

What a failure he is. What a failure he is as a brother.

And he is still stuck inside this hell, just like a bird trapped inside a cage. At least when Hong Kong was here, he wasn't that lonely or guilt-filled… he suddenly realizes he is running in a circle. Thinking in a circle. He is trying to lie to himself, to deceive himself. Because he knows that once he reaches the end of his train of rational thoughts, he'd find no salvation. Nobody would save him, and he has no prospect of running away by himself. He is already exhausted and sad and lonely…. Hong…

He lets himself drop the last tear to the mattress to bid his little brother good-bye forever.

And a finger gently wipes the tear away from his cheek.

Yao is alarmed and frightened; his instincts signal to him to buck up and steel himself for more sexual assault; or maybe act defensively and bite the person touching him, like an anxious laboratory rat. But the finger moves slowly across his cheek, softly and gently, as if trying to soothe him. Soothing…

And he feels his face gently turned to one side. He tries his best to pretend he is still asleep. He tries his best to look relaxed, not tense. He tries his best to breathe slowly, normally, despite his racing pulse…

What happens next he is nowhere near prepared for. From the smell, he guesses it is his Asian master—Kiku—who is touching him. But then his lips are suddenly touching another set of lips. Gentle. Slow. Not lustful; he senses no intention behind the kiss of continuing towards the usual abusive rituals. No pressure. It is just a gentle, almost apologetic kiss.

Yao tries to put the puzzle together. A kiss from Kiku. A gentle, loving, apologetic kiss from Kiku. A kiss without a playing tongue, without saliva coating everywhere; a gentle, sweet, dry kiss.

And when the kiss breaks, he hears Kiku whispering.

"Nobody told me this would easy, but why is it so hard?"

Yao replies to the whisper with only silence.


	10. Chapter 10

"Wan."

"Mmmm?"

"What are you still doing up?"

"Thinking about _Ge-ge_."

"I think…I wonder if…"

"Don't." She brushes his short, choppy locks out of his eyes.

"I'm all right now, Wan. Thanks to you."

"No thanks to _ge-ge_."

"Wan—"

"If only he would have answered his phone when I had first called."

Hong Kong is silent.

"He's never trusted me with anything important. Well, look where that kind of thinking got him."

Hong Kong twines his arms around her and puts his lips against her hair. "You pretend to not like Yao. But out of everyone I know, you're the one who's most like him."

What did he mean? She was flattered. She was infuriated. "Do I look like a cold blooded, secretive—"

"You'll stop at nothing to get what you want, and if that means killing to get it, you'll do it. Easily."

Without looking at him, Wan laces her fingers through his. "Will you come with me to find hi—"

The door bangs open and the two jump. "Play time is over, kiddos," Ivan growls, tossing aside a blood-spotted handkerchief. "I had Eduard secure a trace on the money but it all had to be wired to untraceable Swiss banks. I tried getting some answers from the trigger-happy lunatic who's in charge of the main branches. He didn't give us all the info we needed, but Arthur's man sure did." He gives a dry grin.

"What did you find out?" Hong Kong asks.

"They bought the yacht from a Norwegian. I figured out where he lives. If he could at least tell us the make, model, year, maybe the name of the ship if it's still useful, and anything else that would come in handy, that might be of some use. I doubt those two are going to abandon ship anytime soon. That's how they're able to get away with all this illegal shit. No clear laws in international waters."

"Ivan," Hong Kong says slowly, "before we go, I want to clear some things with you."

"Pardon?"

"You are to stop seeing Yao the moment we get him off the ship."

Wan watches with a morbid fascination as Ivan slowly turns purple. She isn't worried, though. If Ivan does anything to either her or Hong, Yao would never forgive him.

Hong Kong is visibly nerve-wracked, but he doesn't stop. "If you really care about my brother, you'd leave him alone. Let's not kid ourselves, Ivan. There will only be worse troubles down the road for all of us if you stay together."

"I…"

"Promise me."

"I can't do that. You'll understand one day, kid."

"Then," Hong Kong says, with a real edge in his voice, "I'll have to do what I can to protect us." He suddenly puts his hand on the gun in his belt.

"Hong."

"Wan, please leave the room."

Wan stands up, but instead of heading out the door, she approaches Hong Kong from behind and puts her palm on his hand. The boy flinches as she starts gently rubbing the inside of his wrist. Within a few moments, the calming technique starts to work; Hong visibly relaxes, although his hand remains at his belt.

"Let me and Ivan talk."

"You think the best way to stop two people from seeing each other is explicitly ordering them not to see each other again? Hong, we can talk about this later."

"You—"

Wan turns to Hong Kong so that her face is only visible to him and raises a finger to her lips. Hong Kong peers over her shoulder.

At that moment, Ivan's exotic eyes are suddenly swimming in tears, making him look as young and vulnerable as he truly is.

Hong Kong stares at Ivan's crumpling face and suddenly bows his head. Wan wraps her arms around him, and he drops her face into his shoulder.

* * *

><p>There is not a single inch of this yacht he hasn't screwed Yao in, Arthur muses as he unsteadily makes his nightly stroll, wine glass in shaky hand.<p>

Every bed room, the kitchen, both bathrooms, even the stairs—they'd left a sprinkling of love-DNA everywhere.

Nowadays, Arthur is with Yao up to twelve hours a day, having sex several times a day. Arthur hasn't had any desire to physically leave the yacht for quite a while. He is also having trouble concentrating on any of his reports because Yao isn't mentioned in any of his reports. He has lost interest in following the news; they never report anything he isn't already aware of about China. He doesn't talk to Kiku at all unless it directly concerns the Chinese prisoner. Yao's face dances in his vision when he shuts his eyes. Yao's anxious voice rings in his ears, and every word is sick love.

What a shame that they have to get rid of him, and so soon.

However…

Herein lies the problem. This is only the logical side of Arthur talking. Lately, another voice, which he'd first become aware of several weeks ago-very small and weak then -has been growing stronger each day.

_There's no need. He's fully trained._

Arthur shakes his head and takes an unsightly gulp of merlot. It comes right back up. He's forced to choke for a minute.

_Shocker, isn't it? This isn't something you can end simply when it becomes inconvenient._

Distracting Kiku for a few hours will not be easy, but he's smarter than the Japanese man. He'll convince Kiku to go offshore, maybe for supplies, and finish with Yao while he's away. Once at sea, the body will never be recovered.

_You're more like Kiku than you're willing to admit._ _You don't want to let him go._

"Maybe," Arthur tries to reason with himself. "But the plan to ruin Ivan failed. The bitch has to go."

Arthur shakes his head. After dumping the body, he'll take the dinghy to shore. They've been circling around the Southhampton port for a while.

Maybe he can then permanently settle in Rome after changing his name and identity. He's always wanted to live near the Vatican. And his old friend Feliciano lives there; he makes the best pasta, doesn't overcharge for it, and from what Arthur remembers, is too dim and innocent to ever ask any serious questions about anything relevant.

_The truth is you're incapable of letting go._

What?

_Just like with Alfred. You don't know how to, once you're attached. Even if it's lost forever. Even if it was never yours to begin with._

"The bitch means nothing to me. He never did." Arthur spits into the wine glass.

_Logic, is that you want? He's more useful to you alive than otherwise. You can't screw a dead body for longer than that, you—_

"AAAAAARRGHH!"

Arthur throws the wine glass into the teeming waves overboard. A few seconds later, the pitter-patter of the Japanese man's little feet arrive on the top deck.

"Are you all right?"

"I-I've been drinking and I twisted my ankle. It's fine."

Arthur brushes past him and hammers violently down the stairs. He pries open the lock to Yao's door.

_How else are you going to stay sane?_ the voice prods at him. _This is the only thing that calms you down nowadays._

"SHUT UP!"

Fifteen minutes later Arthur is turning Yao over and releasing into him, hot wetness shooting hard into Yao, giving them both depth into the climax. Arthur doesn't stop releasing for what seems to Yao the longest time, as Yao's muscles grip him and ride with him.

The doorknob is rattling as though possessed. It must be Kiku. The rattling soon turns into furious blows.

Arthur finds one of Yao's nipples, a little nub the color of a spring peony. He starts sucking, gently at first and then so hard that Yao moans in pain.

_It is my right._

His fingers slide into Yao's ass and move around in a circle, as his mouth stays on Yao's flat chest, always sucking, sucking. Yao throws his head back, arching as he lets out a deep, loud moan. Golden eyes—not blue, never that familiar blue again—roll back towards the ceiling.

_He belongs to me now._

Yao whimpers against Arthur's mouth as Arthur's tongue roughly impales his throat.

_Is there any wonder why people fight and kill for him?... He's better, much better than Alfred ever w- _

"ARTHUR!"

Yao throws the blanket over himself as Arthur nearly tumbles to the floor. Kiku pushes aside the broken door with his foot as he approaches them.

"This is unacceptable," Kiku says softly. He edges closer as he speaks, until he is nearly at the foot of the bed.

"I—"

"You broke our agreement."

Arthur looks up at him dumbly. Kiku is staring him down. What is this? Is he actually waiting for an explanation?

In the meantime, Yao has drawn himself into a ball. Long locks of silky black hair are visible above the covers.

Arthur opens his mouth. His eyes dart and he seems to have trouble forming words.

"I want things," Arthur says thickly, "that I do not want to want."

"I warned you," Kiku says by way of replying.

"It's not me. It's … not…"

_No, it's __**me**__. _

Arthur looks down after feeling a slight prick on his wrist.

Vaguely, he makes out the shape of Kiku unwrapping Yao from the blanket, enfolding him tightly in his arms.

… _No one must take him away this time._

The golden eyes cast one more glance at him before the world becomes too blurry, and then finally, black.


	11. Chapter 11

The ever-brilliant Hasegawa does it again, as evidenced in the awesomeness below. Enjoy this heart-pounding chapter! (blind-alchemist)

* * *

><p>"I won't let him do anything to you, I swear."<p>

Kiku's words are completely lost on Yao. The Japanese man grimaces. Yao doesn't blink, doesn't give a single indication that he'd heard Kiku. Yao had been reading Kiku's body, his micro-expressions, the Japanese's form of "sign language." And since the Chinese man hadn't perceived anything concerning 'fucking', as per trained, Yao isn't responding.

"Yao, look at me."

The Japanese man has finally started to acknowledge the holes in his plan. He hadn't accounted for complications originating from feelings, whether they be his, Yao's, or Arthur's. Firstly, Arthur had finally cracked. He had definitely been unstable to begin with—to say that Alfred's death had destroyed him was not an exaggeration. However, when Kiku had first struck up the pact with Arthur, the British man had still appeared sane or at least functional. But it seemed as though living in a claustrophobia-inducing yacht for months at a time had opened the door to Arthur's insanity.

Also, nowadays, Yao is looking worse than ever. The Chinese's body has become weak and frail, to the point of ribs and joints sticking out everywhere. Kiku is, honestly, extremely worried. Yao wouldn't eat if not for Kiku spoon feeding him these days. It seems that the Chinese man has lost the will—or maybe the ability—to eat for himself, to keep up his strength to live.

The deterioration of Yao's physique is frightening. His magnificent hair has lost its shine and is falling out; once a beautiful black crown had framed Yao's face, but is now a rumpled mess of shreds. Kiku remembers how he'd panicked when he had once accidentally grabbed the hair too hard during a training session, and the strands had gathered inside his palms. Yao's skin is pale, sickly pale, and the cheekbones of his face have hollowed. But worst of all is his eyes. Yao's golden eyes look dead, like those of a gold fish on a chopping board.

Kiku hisses. He is the only sane person on the yacht. And he knows that, sooner or later, someone is going to die. Either Arthur would kill him, or he'd kill Arthur, or Yao would be killed. Either way, three would become two, and then finally one. And it was all because his plans had gone awry. It was so unlike him, the perfectionist, the Master of plans. No, no. He had never planned anything like this. Business wise, he is unbeatable, but now that he is dealing with humans, his feelings are all over the place.

He was supposed to own Yao for himself, make Yao his little golden bird inside the cage. He was planning to delete Arthur's presence from his plans once Arthur had gotten his hands on the documents he so desperately sought. Kiku would then bring Yao into his little secluded villa in the middle of nowhere and have Yao all to himself. And Yao in his imagination would start to accept him, hesitantly at first, but make progress little by little, and in the end they would get married by the hill overlooking the sea and Yao would be in a white dress, smiling at him. Call him cheesy, call him irrational, but Kiku had believed that he had the perfect, most foolproof plan.

Except that the Russian hadn't surrendered the documents, he had instead dismembered Arthur's subordinate, rescued their hostage, and is currently hot on their tails, so in the end Arthur had not only lost his subordinate, but also, apparently, his mind. Now Arthur is just a useless but dangerous dog, prowling inside the cabin; and since they are all locked inside the small ship together, everything is becoming ten times harder to deal with.

Furthermore, another problem has arisen. He hadn't planned on loving Yao this way; he had never expected to develop real feelings. He wants to give Yao something more than the usual tuna—but because they are on the run, they can't afford anything particularly luxurious. Yao in his arms looks at him expectantly, with an empty gaze, as though waiting for when he would be fucked to death. This wasn't supposed to happen. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This was wrong. All wrong.

"…Sorry," Kiku whispers. Yao looks at him, his eyes hollow as ever, yet his lips are forming a small smile.

"…Augh," Yao barks.

* * *

><p>Xiang Gang's words won't stop swirling around in Ivan's head.<p>

_You need to leave him._

Leave _Yao_? No way.

_When we get Yao off the ship, we're taking him into hiding so that nobody can find him._

Could he possibly live like that?

Yao is definitely his foundation. Ivan isn't sane, he is aware of his mental instability, and furthermore, he'd go as far to admit he wasn't human before he'd met Yao. Yao was the one who'd made him a full man. Ivan needs Yao's smiles as badly as he needs Yao's acceptance. He wants Yao beside him. If he really got to marry Yao, Ivan had already prepared a secure fortress, hidden away from society, where Yao could live and stay and wait for him. Ivan would make sure that Yao would always be safe and sound, and that Yao would be happy, very happy.

He opens his cell phone for the hundredth time. The picture sent by Arthur so long ago is blinking on the screen, staring back at him mercilessly. Ivan is the one who caused this picture to materialize. Now he isn't even sure if Yao is still alive or not. He knows that Yao hasn't been sold to any other slave auctions, but maybe they had something worse in store for him. Maybe they had killed him instead, and were planning on harvesting his organs.

The sudden mental image of Yao with a gaping hole in his stomach, lifeless eyes peering at him accusingly, blaming him, cursing him, makes Ivan lean over and puke. When he is done being sick, his clothes are wet and they reek. But he can't stop it. He is shutting down. How long has it been since the last time he had eaten anything? He is drowning himself in the power of vodka these days. And his subordinates are all stupid, useless! They can't even locate the fucking ship. Everything is going downhill, and fast. His superiors are already starting to give him warnings, telling him to stop looking for the ship.

Yeah, fucking bastards. They are only helping Ivan to look for Yao because their own asses are on the line—Ivan may be valuable, but he refuses to return to work until he finds his stolen fiancée. But now, since several weeks have passed and Arthur is still lost at sea, they'd changed their strategy. Instead of assassinating Arthur, they are using more political weapons. His superiors have declared Arthur to be an international fugitive. Their targets are the British Intelligence, and that is all they are concerned about; that is about all the support Ivan can expect from them anymore.

Everything is breaking down without Yao by his side. Since when had he started depending this much on the Chinese man?

(_If Yao is capable of making him this weak, wouldn't it be better if Yao disappears from his life altogether?_)

If he can't have Yao… then nobody else will.

* * *

><p><em>Look, they are betraying you. Are you stupid enough to stay here and be a sacrificial lamb?<em>

Shut up.

_You are the one who is being tied up. And since I am now your official voice of reason, I need to admit… I really hate being tied up. _

Shut up.

_Oh, look, the Jap bastard is coming. Bite his dick, you sucker. _

SHUT UP!

Arthur opens his eyes and realizes he is indeed tied up, and lying inside a small boat, one of the freaking dinghies. The yacht is floating beside the dinghy. His hands are bound with rope, rendering him unable to move freely. He wiggles furiously, yet, apparently the Japanese knows bondage well enough to secure the tie.

"You are finally awake."

"What the bloody hell are you doing? Untie me!"

"You are not stable. I will take control from here."

"Let me out! We never agreed to this!"

"Look." Kiku slaps Arthur's face with today's newspaper. Arthur spits onto Kiku's face.

"I cannot use my hands, _motherfucker_. Untie me!"

"You are an international fugitive now," hisses Kiku. Arthur slows down to process the words.

"What the…? Are you out of your fucking mind? I am a senior member of British intelligence!"

"Apparently you have been fired. You're wanted on charges of stealing… classified documents? You are now officially a fugitive; moreover, they've pinpointed you as a spy for Russia."

"That's bloody funny! Hell yes, I am from Russia. How can I be Russian, for God's sake? I have worked in Intel for over _ten years_!"

"You are useless as well as a liability now." Kiku shrugs. "So I think I have the right to annul our agreement."

"WHAT?"

"Here is some food for you. It will last you two weeks. The drug is going to wear off in a few hours; you can untie yourself then. And we are in the middle of the damn sea. Find yourself a nice way to get to solid land."

"_Motherfucker_!"

"Sayonara, Arthur Kirkland."

With that, Kiku jumps back onto the yacht. And he pushes the small dinghy away.

Arthur watches helplessly as the yacht leaves him in the middle of nowhere, but not without throwing out a few more choice swears and heavy curses.

* * *

><p>Kiku wipes his forehead and checks his compass again. He has just realized that they are still somewhere in the Atlantic, circulating around the Northern sea. He can see land, and there are quite a large number of private ferries surrounding him. He'd made a pretty huge mistake of abandoning Arthur in close proximity to Arthur's own country, Britain, due to his arising panic when he read how Arthur had now become an international fugitive.<p>

Shit. Maybe he should head back and get Arthur. If Arthur could reach the shore before he did… Gods, he knows that everything is screwed up. What on earth is happening to him? What had happened to his status as the "Master of perfect planning"? Everything is so messed up beyond recognition.

He heads back to the deck. Their food supply is now very limited, since he had given most of their rations to Arthur. Kiku still considers himself human; Arthur would certainly be left drifting in the middle of nowhere for a while, so he'd left more food than necessary. Consciously, Kiku would not let a fellow human being starve to death, at least not immediately. But now he was regretting his own act of kindness. In fact, it hadn't actually been an act of kindness. It was more along the lines of an act of stupidity.

He goes to check on Yao. Yao is huddled inside the blanket, hurling his insides like a fish stick inside a sushi wrap. The young Chinese man has been whimpering, non-stop, ever since an hour ago. Kiku had forced Yao to eat something, yet the Chinese man hasn't been able keep it down. He has in fact been vomiting everything he has consumed.

He needs a doctor, and more food. So he has little choice but to come back to the shore.

He is definitely making a mistake, but Yao's life is at stake.

* * *

><p>"Wan…"<p>

"What?"

"…I remember him now. The other man, besides the blonde one."

"Are you sure you can recall it correctly? Don't force yourself, baby brother."

Hong shakes his head. "I remember now. I can remember now. I know I am not strong enough yet, but I want to save _Ge-ge_ as soon as possible. There were two men—one whom Ivan is having a problem with. And the other… the other one was Asian."

"…and?" Taiwan holds her brother closer. "Calm down. You are shaking."

"He… he said he knew _Ge-ge_. He said… "

Wan nods encouragingly and gently, and Hong looks back away, struggling to continue.

"He said he'd worked together with _Ge-ge_ before. He is around my height with a peculiar hair style, and has dark gray eyes and wears sunglasses a lot. He smokes. He… he spoke with an accent… I think he is probably Japanese…"

And Hong Kong stops talking and hunches over. He dry-heaves, and then starts vomiting right on the floor, his body sweating profusely. Taiwan pats her brother's back, stroking him, soothing him. They crouch in the living room.

In essence, Hong Kong is in brutal therapy. He is trying to remember everything he had experienced in his darkest hours. He knows it is going to scar him for life, but in order to save Yao, Hong Kong needs to re-live everything. Taiwan is there to help him in any way.

"You did well, Hong …"

"What did you say?" Suddenly another, deeper voice can be heard outside the door. Taiwan turns back and spots her other older brother at the door. Im Yong-Soo walks in and grabs Hong Kong. "What did you say?"

"Yong-Soo! He's not OK to talk more yet! Give him time!"

"No, this is important!" Yong-Soo shrieks, letting go of Hong Kong. "Japanese… I know only one Japanese man with that kind of characteristic. I _have seen_ him before… working with Yao-_hyung_."

Taiwan's eyes light up.

"Can you help us search for him?"

Yong Soo nods. "Sure I will."

"Don't tell Ivan," Taiwan whispers. "We can save Yao-_ge_ by ourselves."


	12. Chapter 12

This is another amazing chapter! Blind_Alchemist is simply amazing!

Enjoy, folks!

* * *

><p>Kiku wraps a blanket over his prisoner. The thin white sculpted blades of Yao's shoulders are shaking noticeably as midnight-black silk tumble across the ridges.<p>

"Honda," the intercom thunders, and Kiku guides Yao, stroking him, soothing him, towards the sterile white hospital room.

* * *

><p>The Dutch doctor's eyes are staring at Kiku so intently, Kiku feels slightly intimidated.<p>

"I need to see some ID, please."

Without thinking, Kiku hands over his license. He picks up Yao's limp, white hand, and holds it for several long moments as the doctor glances briefly at the ID and promptly hands it to a white-haired Norwegian-looking resident standing at his side. "Give it to personnel when you get a chance." The white-haired boy nods.

"What's wrong with him?"

"I haven't gotten back the results of all his blood tests, but it definitely looks like pneumonia. We've started him on an IV. He's very dehydrated."

"Will he be all right?"

"He'll need to be in intensive care for the rest of the week."

"The rest of the…" Kiku looks towards the floor.

"Sir," the white-haired boy suddenly speaks up, "what exactly is your relationship to the patient?"

"I'm his brother," Kiku responds, looking past the boy and straight into the Dutchman's eyes. The Dutchman stares back just as intensely.

"So you are related?" the Dutchman intones. "You would know, then, whether he has a boyfriend?"

"No. Ye-no."

"It's not every day I see a patient afflicted with pneumonia, suffering from dehydration… he's completely covered in scars and bruises. How on earth did he get like this?"

"I don't know. He got sick a few days ago so I brought him in."

"How long have you been dating him?"

"I…what?"

"Netherlands," the young Norwegian resident says softly behind him. The Dutchman shrugs him off.

"A man just saunters in with a critically ill boy, who's anal passage is so torn he requires emergency surgery and three stitches—tell me, have you abused all your past boyfriends?"

"I'm his _brother_, asshole," Kiku retorts, lifting his head from his hands. "Just tell me if he'll be all right!"

The Dutchman starts to say something, but stops himself as he catches a glimpse of the sincere brightness in Kiku's eyes. A tear grazes Kiku's cheek. The Norwegian reaches in his pocket and hands Kiku a tissue.

A moment of silence passes before the Dutchman gruffly clears his throat.

"Fortunately, he came to us before he reached the stage of _red hepatization_. While it will likely take several weeks to fully recover, best case scenario would be he'll have most of his strength back by the end of the week."

Kiku gives absolutely no signs of puzzlement over the medical terminology. "Whatever it takes, doctor. Money is no objection." He doesn't consciously anticipate it, but the sudden image of imprisoned boys being auctioned to a room filled with gawking, leering businessmen flashes in his mind's eye.

* * *

><p>"A 'Honda Kiku' turned up in Amsterdam?"<p>

"It's our best bet. Honda Kiku checked into their city hospital two days ago."

"A hospital." Xiang Gang leans forward, clutching at the back of a chair. "Yao-_ge_…"

"Let's not waste time jumping to conclusions. We're leaving immediately," Wan pulls up her laptop. "I can buy us tickets on—"

Yong-Soo's face is stoic. "In about an hour, Ivan is picking us up in his private helicopter."

Stunned silence.

"Yong-Soo, what the hell did you do?" Wan says in a deathly voice.

"Think about it. He has connections all over Europe, deep pockets, private limousines and a helicopter. He has what we lack—resources, and lots of it. He can buy us _time_. I've thought about it, Wan. In the end, Ivan is valuable help to us."

"He's unstable!"

"Wan…"

"You don't realize what you've done! If Yao-_ge_ is dead, it's your fault!"

Yong-Soo looks as though she'd just struck him a blow. Upon seeing his expression, Wan's composure softens ever so slightly.

"He has a point, Wan," Xiang Gang speaks up. "If it weren't for Ivan…"

"If it weren't for Ivan, none of this would have happened!"

"That's not fair, Wan," Xiang Gang says.

"If the world were fair, we wouldn't be in need of his assistance," Yong-Soo says. "I agree. But the world isn't fair."

"The world isn't supposed to be fair," Xiang Gang adds quietly.

"It's not 'supposed to' be this cruel, either," Wan retorts, wrapping her arms around him. She sounds pained, and exhausted.

"No," Yong-Soo finishes. "The world is designed to do one thing: to run. That's all."

* * *

><p>It's half-past midnight when Kiku hears peculiar shuffling sounds that seem to be coming from near Yao's little room. The noises are faint, but clearly audible to his sharpened senses.<p>

He isn't supposed to be in the hospital. Visiting times are long over. But the Japanese man has his methods of sneaking in. Credit his ninja heritage.

He opens the door from the deserted office and peers down the hall.

Hushed but distorted-sounding laughter. What?

He breaks into a quick run, and stops abruptly when he reaches Yao's room.

Kiku's eyes bulge when he spots two dark figures hovering over Yao's bed. After making a mad dash to the door, he kicks it open.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" he bellows as the figures immediately surround him. They are both wearing orderlies' uniforms. One of them—Prussian-looking- has gray hair and red eyes, while the other, clearly a Spaniard, sports curly brown hair. They come at him with outstretched hands.

"Shit, get this guy out of here," the red-eyed Prussian orders as he makes his way towards the foot of Yao's bed.

Kiku attempts to throw a punch in the dark, but the curly-haired man picks him up easily and slams him into the corner. The Prussian holds the struggling Chinese man in a headlock. "Man! What a little honey you are," he mutters into Yao's ear, using his free hand to grab onto Yao's wrist. "I bet you're a real fuck toy."

"No—" Yao pleads in a weak voice.

"Yeah, I can't wait to feel those lips around my cock," the Spaniard leers.

"Let him go!" Kiku covers his head with his arms as the Spaniard hoists Yao's mattress off the bed frame and hurls it in his direction. The red-eyed man has pinned Yao to the floor and torn away his paper smock with a short switchblade.

"Here, Gilbert, I got his wrists." The Spaniard restrains Yao's wrists above his head.

Grinning so hard that a thin string of drool dangles from his lip, Gilbert runs the blade about Yao's smooth, ivory neck, pushing the midnight-black locks to the side.

"Hey, Antonio, this kid totally wants it," the Prussian exclaims, as Yao's hip automatically swings towards him when he grasps it with one hand. Kiku wrests the heavy mattress off him, in time to glimpse Yao's desperate face turned towards him.

"Sensei," Yao breathes, pleadingly. Kiku's heart is in his throat.

"Don't move," Gilbert warns without glancing at Kiku. "I can cut your boy's throat before you can get anywhere near me."

"Don't hurt him," Kiku says. Antonio suddenly releases Yao's wrists. He marches over and punches Kiku in the gut, causing him to double over. Yao cries out and stretches out one thin arm, reaching towards the Japanese.

"Forty milligrams of this will shut you up," Gilbert growls as he pushes a pill into Yao's mouth and then covers it with his palm. He strokes Yao's slim white throat. Once Yao swallows, the Prussian forces a brutal kiss on him. Simultaneously, Antonio restrains Yao's legs and starts removing his boxers.

CRASH!

The doorway is blocked with a giant silhouette.

"Who the fuck—" Antonio only gets three words out before colliding straight with the wall. Raising one arm, Kiku shields himself from the falling debris. The six-foot-nine Russian wrings his knuckles out only once before advancing on the red-eyed Prussian.

"Back off," Gilbert gulps, pressing the blade against Yao's throat. He yanks the unconscious Chinese man upwards, holding tightly onto him like a shield. Ivan stops in his tracks.

The Prussian suddenly yelps like a wounded dog. Yao slumps, the knife barely grazing his throat as his captor stumbles forwards and collapses, a twitching syringe sticking from the center of his back. Behind them, Kiku pushes aside the tray of needles, panting heavily.

"Yao? YAO!" The Russian cradles Yao in his arms, too overwhelmed to form any more coherent words. He strokes the Chinese man's face, desperate to get a response. Yao sags in his grasp.

"He's unconscious," Kiku says, fully standing up. Ivan's back is turned towards him. One hand slowly travels towards his belt, inches from Kiku's holster.

"Yong-Soo?" Ivan says suddenly, stumbling forward, squinting in the dark. "Is that you?"

Kiku is silent. Slowly, he removes his fingers from his gun.

"Yong-Soo?" Ivan says again. "How did you get in here so fast?"

"Had Xiang Gang check out the bottom floors while I checked out the top floors," the Japanese man finally responds in a deep tone. His heart is pounding so loudly he can barely hear his own voice.

"That was good thinking." Suddenly, more noises down the hall erupt. Kiku immediately recognizes the sound of pounding feet.

"Shit," Kiku curses in the same deep voice. "Those must be more orderlies who want to have a piece of Yao."

"I'll hold them off," Ivan says, removing a terrifying-looking rusty water pipe from his coat. "You—"

"I'll bring Yao downstairs. First floor. Meet you there in a few minutes."

Ivan nods, raising his water pipe and charging ahead while Kiku gathers Yao bridal-style into his arms. Within a few moments, they disappear into the dark corridors on the opposite end of the hall.

A minute later, Yong-Soo, Wan and Xiang Gang skid to a halt at the entrance of Yao's room. The spinning water pipe almost chops off Yong-Soo's hair curl, but he ducks just in time before it embeds itself in the wall behind him.

"FUCK!" the Korean exclaims. "Ivan! Watch it!"

"…"

"Ivan?" Where's Yao?"

"…"

"Ivan?"

* * *

><p>"Airport, please," Kiku says to the taxi driver. He strokes Yao's hair as the Chinese man dozes in his lap. Kiku watches out the window as the buildings of the Dam Square zoom by. He smiles.<p>

* * *

><p>review please!<p>

This is a really great chapter (in my opinion) and she deserved the praise for it! ( Hasegawa here).


	13. Chapter 13

_there is enough treachery, hatred violence absurdity in the average_

_human being to supply any given army on any given day_

_and the best at murder are those who preach against it_

_and the best at hate are those who preach love_

_and the best at war finally are those who preach peace_

_those who preach god, need god_

_those who preach peace do not have peace_

_those who preach peace do not have love_

_beware the preachers_

_beware the knowers_

_beware those who are always reading books_

_beware those who either detest poverty_

_or are proud of it_

_beware those quick to praise_

_for they need praise in return_

_beware those who are quick to censor_

_they are afraid of what they do not know_

_beware those who seek constant crowds for_

_they are nothing alone_

_beware the average man the average woman_

_beware their love, their love is average_

_seeks average_

_but there is genius in their hatred_

_there is enough genius in their hatred to kill you_

_to kill anybody_

_not wanting solitude_

_not understanding solitude_

_they will attempt to destroy anything_

_that differs from their own_

_not being able to create art_

_they will not understand art_

_they will consider their failure as creators_

_only as a failure of the world_

_not being able to love fully_

_they will believe your love incomplete_

_and then they will hate you_

_and their hatred will be perfect_

_like a shining diamond_

_like a knife_

_like a mountain_

_like a tiger_

_like hemlock_

_their finest art_

-Charles Bukowski: "The Genius of the Crowd"

* * *

><p>"Alfred?"<p>

The young blonde man awkwardly pushes his glasses up the bridge of nose and smiles at the taller, older bespectacled man.

"Hi, Berwarld."

"How's y'r leg now?"

Alfred tries not to wince as he bends down and touches his knee. "It stopped raining, so it's not aching as much today." He flexes his calf; the polymeric stents within make a slightly sharp, popping noise.

"Have you stopped takin' the Oxycotin?"

"Actually I stopped a while time ago. It made me nauseous and I really don't want to get addicted to the stuff. Also, I'd need a prescription, and I aim to lay low."

Berwarld raises his eyebrows in mild admiration. "Ev'n wh'n Tino 'n I h'd j'st p'cked y' up fr'm the war'ho'se rubble, 's soon 's y'd regained c'nsciousness 'n w're able t' t'lk, y' refus'd m'rphine r'ght aw'y. I don't kn'w 'f a s'ngle oth'r so'l who wo'ld do th't, mys'lf include'd."

"You need to learn English more, Berwarld." Alfred laughed. "Well, shock helps. Drinking, too, from the days onward."

Laughing, Berwarld eyes Alfred's prosthetics. He clears his throat. "Y' know… I came by t' tell y' tha' I saw Arthur Kirkland's face all o'er th' news this morning."

"I heard."

Berwarld's smile drops immediately. "Y' did?"

"Do you want me to sweep the foyer, too?"

"Alfred, out of all th' people you'd want t'-are y' certain y' aren't goin' t'…?"

Alfred adjusts the mop handle, avoiding the Berwarld's gaze. "Look, I still believe Ivan only meant to scare me off the investigation, with the timed explosion. He's more than capable of offing us any time he wants. I was stupid to stay behind to try to salvage the goods—it cost me my leg."

"Ther' _were_ millions o' euros' worth o'—"

"When you and Tino rescued me and I suddenly fell off the radar, I heard Ivan was genuinely surprised. But if I contact Artie, I'll only get him hurt, or killed."

"What y're doin' is cruel. Y' think Arthur h'd no idea wha' he signed up f'r when 'e chose y'?"

"Let it be, Berwarld. What's done's done. What's gone is gone."

His cell rings and he picks up. "Mathieu? I'll meet you at the entrance of the concert hall. West end." He closes the cell.

"Y've moved on pr'tty fast."

"That's how I roll."

"How 're things goin' wi' 'im? Y' two seem pr'tty s'rious already."

"Great. Spectacular, in fact." Alfred leans in and kisses Berwarld lightly on the cheek. "Thanks again, Berwarld. I'll have the front entrance of the hotel sparkling by the time you wake up tomorrow."

Berwarld reaches out and grips his wrist. Alfred looks up in astonishment.

"Alfred, y' need t' wake up. Tino and I 've t'ken in oth'r v'ct'ms of the Mob's act'v'ties, some under w'tness prot'ction, an' we don't qu'stion their backgr'nds or mot'ves or why they're sworn t' secrecy. But you're jus' a kid, w'th 'is whole life ahead o' 'im, and fr'm watchin' y' I c'n tell y' jus' don't seem t' get it. I still c'n't get it out o' my head 'ow y' j'st sat and did nothin' as Arthur eulogized y' at your own 'off'cial funer'l.'"

Alfred shrugs and coolly withdraws his hand. "No. I get what you're saying. But. Honestly, I've definitely moved on. And I'm sure he has too," he adds lamely.

"It's because o' Mathieu, i'n't it?"

"Arthur is almost twice my age, and I honestly don't know what the hell he was thinking when he first made his move on me. Don't get me wrong, the sex was awesome, but we were never a terrific match. He was more than ready to settle down, and I wasn't at all. Buy a house and have a family and all that, at _my age_? My life was just beginning!"

Berwarld is silent.

"And the relationship had its issues," Alfred continues in a noticeably more muted tone. "Nothing was ever new to him. Whenever we traveled, or tried exotic cuisine, or went places together, it was always my first time and never his. It wasn't as special."

Alfred looks into Berwarld's eyes. "With Mattie, it's more… convenient this way, anyway. We're closer in age and have more in common. Like taste in music. Speaking of which, the concert is about to start. Thanks again."

Berwarld tries to sound neutral as he bids him good-bye, but it only comes out as a raspy, guttural grunt.

* * *

><p>"I need four adult, one-way tickets to Brussels, Belgium, please."<p>

The cashier sighs and leans forward, lowering his lids into a bored stare. He takes a minute to ring up the total. "That'll be four hundred and fifty—"

He shrieks and covers himself with his arms as shards of broken glass litter the immediate area, the leaden pipe still quivering in the once-standing window. "I think you'll be kindly giving us the tickets just about now, _da_?"

Shaking, the traumatized cashier reaches into a lower shelf and hands over the train slips.

None of them notice a shadowy figure sporting straw-yellow hair and thick eyebrows stalking several yards behind them. When the train arrives, the figure waits as the three Asians and one tall Russian board, and takes a seat in the adjacent car.

* * *

><p>"Do not cry," Kiku says. His voice is more comforting than soft rays of sunlight.<p>

The Japanese is beyond Yao in his state, but the tone of Kiku's voice is not. Kiku's embrace on his body is even clearer, and Yao leans into him. He says nothing, and he does not weep.

"We're here. This little hotel is safe from those running from Ivan and the Mob."

Ivan. The name sounds painfully familiar. He does not know why but a sensation of trust flows through him when he hears it. But then Kiku tightens his embrace on Yao, and Yao smiles at him lovingly, albeit sadly. Kiku opens the taxicab. Yao blinks and realizes it's very early morning, maybe 2 or 3 am.

When Kiku guides him into the hotel lobby, there was nobody there. Kiku methodically scans the room and pushes the little bell on the table, asking for service.

Yao watches blindly, reacting to nothing. He is in the state of feeling almost nothing. Numb. The anesthetics from the hospital are still working, plus Kiku had forced pain killers down his throat along the road.

The room is pleasantly nice; a 'homely' sense strikes Kiku as they enter. This small hotel by the road would not be something that Ivan and the Mob could detect. There are heaps of small inns around, and this one is not unique at all, not standing out.

Kiku drums his fingers impatiently on the table. He presses the button again. But still, no one comes. Realizing that it is too early to have service, Kiku helps himself over the counter to some of the keys hanging on the wall.

"..Wait! What are you doing?"

The voice makes Kiku freeze in his tracks. A small creature comes out from the back of the room, rubbing its eyes. Kiku cautiously takes a step back and smiles as gently as he can.

"My apologies. My brother and I need a room for at least the next two nights. May we have a room, please?"

"What brings you here at this hour…?"

"Are you not trained to not interrogate your guests?" is what Kiku wishes to retort, but instead he smiles more widely to evade the question. The lady in the blue sleeping dress smiles back, and she pulls out a book.

"Please put your name, address and contact number here, sir…?"

"..Arthur," Kiku answers. "My name is Arthur Kirkland."

The lady suddenly stops writing. She watches Kiku and Yao for a while, and Kiku develops the uneasy sensation that something is wrong.

"Is there anything wrong..?" Kiku inquires.

The lady shakes her head. "No, of course not! It's just that your poor brother looks so pale and ghastly… maybe a cup of hot chocolate can help? How about a warm bath? I can prepare them straight away!"

"That would be helpful, thank you." Kiku nods.

The lady smiles. "My name is Tino, please follow me. I'll show you your room."

* * *

><p>"Wh't's 'p?"<p>

"I am worried, Su-san." Tino, the 'lady' of the inn climbs back into his bed with his husband. He is so used to being mistaken as a lady, to the point where now he doesn't even bother to correct people and instead naturally allows them to realize their mistake by themselves. "The new guest gave his name as Arthur Kirkland."

"Wh't!"

"Ssh! You'll wake Sea-kun if you are loud." Tino smiles gently and waves to the room beside them, which hosts their one and only son. "Do you think he is really Arthur Kirkland, the guy Alfred told us about? But he didn't look Caucasian at all. In fact, I think both of the guests are Asians."

"…"

"I think it's better if we don't tell Alfred until we are sure. I don't want to complicate his life. He has had so many burdens already."

Berwarld nods to his wife's suggestion. Then he wraps his arms around his wife's body, holding Tino tight.

* * *

><p>"I heard there were a couple new guests that came this early morning." Alfred whistles to Sealand. The boy is peeling potatoes in the back of the kitchen, helping his 'mother' cook breakfast for the whole inn.<p>

"Yea, Mama told me that they are Chinese or somethin'. You know, black-haired and all."

"You need to learn that not all Asians are Chinese, Sealand." Alfred frowns. "That is a basic skill for survival now."

"Yea, probably for old men like you, but I have mama and papa. Eh, papa is waiting for you down in the heating room, go and help instead of preaching to me early in the morning."

"Brat."

Sealand grins widely. He always wins their bouts of banter. Alfred is a weakling compared to him.

Alfred walks away to the heating room where Berwarld is doing his daily inspection of the temperature of the water heater and other devices to make sure his guests are comfortable. He walks as fast as his injury permits him, and he looks around. The sky is so blue. Maybe he can ask Matthew out for a picnic lunch or something.

And the door of the room by the end of the hallway suddenly opens. An Asian man emerges into the hall, and shuts the door behind him. Alfred, out of curiosity brought on by his previous training as an officer, looks a bit closer.

And he freezes, death-like, in his tracks, as he realizes that he, indeed, knows the Asian man so well.


	14. Chapter 14

Alfred pinches himself, hard, to make sure he's not dreaming.

As soon as the Japanese man (Alfred is certain he was a previous partner / client of Mattie's, though the last time he'd seen him was only a couple years ago) had disappeared down the corridor, Alfred had tiptoed to his room. Ignoring the "Privacy Please" tag on the knob, he'd unlocked it.

He stares, open-mouthed, at the slim, naked figure on the bed. The boy is gagged, his hands are bound, and a thick chain is looped around his tiny waist, the free end locked to one of the bedposts. He looks at Alfred with terrified eyes.

Alfred gapes with a mixture of complete disbelief and rising adrenaline, until his mouth starts shaping into a lecherous smile.

"I know you from somewhere. We've met before, haven't we beautiful?"

The boy struggles to sit up, the chains clanking violently. Alfred grins wider.

"You look lonely. Why don't we hang for a bit?"

Yao flinches violently as Alfred locks the door securely behind them and casually seats himself on the bed. Alfred cups Yao's face with one hand and runs thick fingers through his hair with the other. "Don't be scared."

The Chinese man tries to cry out, but only a smothered sound escapes. Alfred suddenly tightens his hold on his hair and brings his face towards the crook of Yao's neck. "Be quiet. I don't want to hurt you." He inhales the scent of Yao's hair deeply, shuddering a bit.

_I had no idea that Japanese was working with Ivan. Russian-Yakuza mutual cooperation?_

_Man, I've hit the jackpot._

"Hey, hey. I'll save you from that Japanese, if you'll do this for me. I'll give you something better than anything that Russian can give you. I've wanted to do this ever since I laid eyes on you at that New Year's party, you know."

Yao shakes his head, not digesting a single word the American is saying, and heaves. The exertion proves to be too much as he collapses in Alfred's arms, too weakened to carry on any further. Alfred frowns in something like sympathy as he scans the Chinese's body—the ribs that show, the faint scratches and other signs of abuse on his back and arms, the bandages around Yao's backside.

"Jeez, you're in bad shape. Okay. Just the mouth then for today. I'm going to untie you, all right?"

Alfred ducks as Yao flails desperately in an attempt to shove the American off. "I'm trying to help you! Hold still!" Yao does not hold still. Alfred climbs up and firmly straddles the Chinese, placing one hand on Yao's torso, pinning him, and wrapping the other around the back of Yao's neck.

The door bursts open and gunfire fills the room.

* * *

><p>"Berwald, who were you on the phone with for so long?"<p>

Berwarld turns away and starts busying himself with nothing by the kitchen sink. An awkward silence ensues. Tino narrows his eyes as he steps forward and grasps his elbow.

"Put that frying pan away. And look me in the eyes. Don't tell me you were…?"

Berwarld clears his throat. He can never hide anything well from his wife. "I h'd t' t'll h'm."

"Who?"

Berwarld looks away towards the far wall of the kitchen. Tino stays motionless, and then suddenly increases the pressure on his arm. "What did you do, Berwarld? Who did you tell?"

"Th' guy fr'm the n'ws. W' act'lly go way b'ck… I've h'd hi' persn'l numb'r all th's time—"

"_Which guy_, Berwarld?"

"Arth'r."

"…You told Arthur? About Alfred!"

"I j'st tol' h'm t' c'mere. Th't's all. J'st to c'mere. H'd find wh't h' was lookin' for."

* * *

><p>"Yao," Arthur breathes, putting away his pistol. He glances at the body lying on top of the Chinese man. Looking closer, he can perceive that the client is very young. A blonde, bespectacled boy, just a kid, perhaps ten or twenty years his junior.<p>

Something is ringing in his ears. Evil, black worms are crawling into the spaces of his brain.

Arthur steps closer to the bed, where Yao is sobbing quietly, liquid salt overflowing his golden eyes. He turns the body over.

"No…"

"FREEZE!"

Frothing at the mouth, Ivan charges into the room. He seizes the back of Arthur's neck and lifts him high off the ground.

"Good call, Xiang," Yong-Soo growls, entering behind the Russian. "Little eagle-eye. It's easy to miss one blonde on a whole train headed towards Belgium."

"You think I could ever forget his face?" Xiang asks quietly.

Wan scans the room. "Where's…?"

* * *

><p><em>::Thirty minutes earlier::<em>

"Tell me where Yao is."

The Brit had cornered Kiku into a corner of the hotel. The ice tray Kiku had previously been carrying lies spilled all over the floor.

Kiku smiles, his almost-black eyes glinting. "You're too late. I already killed him."

"Liar."

"I set my little bird free. He's much too good to ever associate again with the likes of you."

Arthur clenches his pistol and whips Kiku's cheek brutally, nearly causing him to lose his balance.

"Lead me to him. Now."

"You don't deserve him."

"As though you do!"

"I never said as much."

"Lead me to him, or…"

"Give it up, Arthur Kirkland. He's not going anywhere with you. I'd die before that. "

* * *

><p>The Finn crouches closer to the wall, every sense on high alert. He'd heard a ruckus earlier, and he can't shake the feeling that this was no ordinary quarrel. Something is terribly wrong.<p>

This hotel was meant to be a haven for the abused and the victimized. It was supposed to serve as a safety net hidden away from a thicket of dangers. But now that foundation appeared to be crumbling; everything had gone to hell. Now the hotel had become a makeshift battleground for the very type of people they were trying to protect themselves from.

Tino's stomach begins somersaulting as he detects a thin trail of blood originating from behind one of the corridors in the south end of the hotel.

When he sees the curled-up body of the Japanese guest who'd checked in that morning, he screams something without words.


	15. Chapter 15

Special thanks to our dear reviewers: kaya's window, Chipii, cherylwoo, Sinousine, Lalalala-Land, NuttyEmmy, muxueya, Fnick's Witness, Chakragirl15, ChinaJadeMoon, Dark Blue Fire, PikoPiko-Chan, otakunerd1, Jaeyu the Happy Fish, charisma1869.

Thank you for taking the time to review! It really makes our day! And thank you to all of our dear readers!

Now, the final chapter to "Not Me":

* * *

><p>Yao places a single white peony next to the urn.<p>

Somewhere higher up the mountain, a lone bird calls. The wind rustles through the treetops. It had required a long hike to get to the temple, but he had finally reached Kiku's final resting place.

It has taken a long time to get here. Nobody had urged Yao to visit the temple, nobody had offered to show him how to find it, and despite it all, Yao had managed to locate this secluded little sanctuary. Already superstitious, he was certain the way had appeared to him in his dreams.

A full year has passed since he was found and rescued by Ivan and his siblings. But in the process, both Kiku and Alfred died. Immediately after the incident, Yao was rushed to the hospital. During his recovery, his siblings were a constant presence surrounding him, shielding him from everyone, including Ivan.

The recovery was as smooth as one could be after being raped and tortured like a piece of dead meat. Yao was unable to talk for the first few months of the recovery session, and trembled violently whenever he was touched. Even the moments when he was aware somebody was entering his room, Yao's body would start shivering uncontrollably and readying itself for an onslaught of pain.

His voice had refused to return until his mental state had finally somewhat stabilized. Yet, after the entire ordeal, he was still mentally scarred into regarding himself as not something human. While the trained psychologists and psychiatrists tried to improve his mental health, Yao was drugged heavily with antidepressants and anti-psychotic drugs, all to increase his perception of self worth and to reduce his suicidal tendencies.

When enough of it had passed, though, when the right time came around, he healed. It was as simple as that. Time softened the sharpest edges of his memories; it turned out to be the best healer. And his wounds slowly recovered, bit by bit. Finally, after a year, Yao returned back to the normal everyday world. He is neither as strong nor as normal as he used to be, yet now he is able to at least hold a typical conversation and live like he is human. Pretending to be human.

The dreams, though, haunted him. The dreams told him of a certain place; the place where Kiku lies forever. And he didn't know why or how or when; he was there without even consciously thinking of it.

Despite the filled rows above it, Kiku's urn is the only object sitting on its own shelf. Dust has gathered over time, and with his bare hand, Yao begins brushing it away. The wood of the shelf feels roughly hewn, but Yao does not stop dusting until the thickest coating starts to give way.

He gasps as he suddenly withdraws his fingers, grimacing at the splinter that opens on his thumb. The blood beads and drops onto his snow-white funeral clothes.

Yao looks at it a long time.

* * *

><p>"<em>Far<em>," Sealand begins in a tone that catches Berwarld off guard. "Whatever happened to Mr. Arthur?"

Berwarld pauses only momentarily as he slices the potatoes. He places a few chips in a bowl before answering. "M'th'r d'dn't t'll y'?"

"Mother told me to ask you."

Berwarld puts away the paring knife and stares off into the corner. "'e died," he answers bleakly.

He looks down at the half-processed food. "Th' pol'ce t'k 'im away an' h'd 'im inst'tution'liz'd. 'e died there, six m'nths lat'r."

"Oh, _Far_." Sealand lets out a long, shuddering sigh. "And what about Uncle Mattie?"

"'ast I 'eard, 'e's st'll lookin' aft'r Alfr'd's th'ngs. H'ven't k'pt 'n touch. Le' it be. Wh't's done's done. Wh't's gone's gone."

* * *

><p>"Thank you for meeting me here," Yao says gratefully.<p>

"I think I like this restaurant," Ivan replies. He has to hunch over to fit in the seat. Beside them, the waiter moves about soundlessly, setting down congee into bamboo bowls. They are the only two patrons in this tiny eatery at the base of the mountain. "Have you decided?"

Yao takes off his shawl, which is covered in grime from the morning's hike. He hides a sad smile. "Not yet, Ivan. I still need more time."

Ivan opens his mouth to protest, snaps it shut, and starts talking in an almost mechanical tone. "I'll always be here for you. If you need me."

Yao finally allows himself to smile as he detects a hint of Wan's advice in Ivan's stiff mannerisms. Despite his sibling's dire warnings, he had contacted Ivan and had asked him to meet there. Ivan is strictly prohibited from meeting him by Yao's three siblings-musketeers. They guard Yao 24 hours a day, seven days a week. They had also forced Ivan to admit (again) that he was all to blame for Yao's current predicament, and he'd meekly accepted the restrictions. But the possessive thread that ran deep inside Ivan's veins couldn't prevent him forever from stalking Yao everywhere—a glimpse of a photo of Yao looking fine for the day was usually enough to satisfy Ivan. Yet when Yao himself called him, Ivan had dropped whatever he was doing, jumped from his seat and reached for the contact for his private jet immediately.

Yao in front of him is truly lovely; still as beautiful as ever. Alas, he is just a shell. The high-spirited, funny, old Yao would never come back. In front of him is the beautiful Yao trying to hold himself together like a normal person. Ivan knows that Yao has been unable to let people touch him for longer than a few moments at a time—even when Wan had once insisted on helping him take a bath. They'd rather die than blame Yao, for sure.

"I just have one question," Ivan says slowly, and Yao blinks, looking up in surprise. "Did you love him back?"

"What's that?" Yao asks almost-innocently, sipping his congee.

"Kiku." Ivan spits out. "Or- Arthur, for that matter."

Silence falls between them. For a second, Ivan regrets he even brought it up. Yao's eyes slowly start to lose focus as he opens his mouth. "Was Kiku's behavior- was that what you would call 'love'?" he finally intones.

"Answer the question," Ivan shoots back, with the faintest hint of chilliness.

Yao reaches out and touches Ivan's hand. He looks away, across the surrounding mountain range. Ivan holds his breath as he feels the familiar, oh so familiar feelings inside him starting to resurface. He could, he _would_ tackle Yao right then and there, peel away his clothes and make love to him. Making love, like what the little florist company owner and him, the powerful magnate, used to do without a second thought. But he knows that even this loving and familiar touch would be impossibly difficult for Yao—even now the Chinese is visibly shaking. So Ivan values the mere touch of Yao's little hand and stays perfectly still, clenching his palm, trying to kill his lust.

At least Yao is able to touch him. To accept him as a 'harmless' friend. But the answer is taking so long; and Ivan fights a sinking feeling as he waits.

"Yao?"

"I wanted to help him," Yao whispers into his bowl. Help? What help? He fails to understand the words pouring from his own mouth. But this is true, he misses the Japanese, after all that has happened.

"You cared for him?"

Did he…? Yes, a bit, if he is being honest to himself. Kiku was gentle and attentively took care of him during the last few days of Kiku's life, when it was only two of them. And during his imprisonment, Yao subconsciously knew that no matter what Arthur did, no matter how much Arthur raged, Kiku was there to prevent further damage on Yao without batting an eyelash. So, yes. Yes, he cared for Kiku.

"Yes."

Ivan clenches his hand and withdraws it slowly from Yao's touch.

"I wouldn't lie to—"

"_I_ love you, Yao," Ivan says, in a different voice. "No matter what happens. I'll always be waiting for you."

Although neither admits it, they both know that Ivan might as well be waiting forever.

It isn't fair, but then again, love is never fair.

* * *

><p>"They're ready to kill you for disappearing again without leaving a proper notice, you know."<p>

"I'm coming."

As they exit the restaurant, Yao catches a glimpse of something poking out from the grass a few feet away. His heart leaps. It is a healthy and vibrant chrysanthemum, and it seems to bow at him as he approaches it.

As Ivan looks about curiously, Yao bends down and looks at the flower closely. Its petals flutter as though trying to signal a message.

"_Wansui_," Yao says softly.

"Yao?"

"Sorry." He gets to his feet.

As they make their way onto the plain, Yao sees three familiar figures heading towards him in the near distance. One's hanbock sleeves keep smacking him in the face as he starts jogging faster, while another lifts up the hems of her pink robes as her semi-curly hair bounces against her back. The last figure, dressed in a red cheongsam, brushes aside his choppy hair and fixes Yao with a relieved, melancholic smile that goes right through his brother.

Yao grips the sleeves of his shawl and begins to run.

-END-


End file.
